Faltering
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: Twenty years is a long time to hold a grudge. (Rossi/Garcia, Morgan/Garcia)
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing of Criminal Minds, which is a damn good thing.

Faltering  
by ScintillatingTart

Part one:

"You can't leave me," she whispered, holding his hand tightly, their wedding bands catching the last of the light and casting it back at the white walls in a glinting reflection of rainbow-hued light. "What am I going to do without you?"

His fingers twitched, trying to curl around hers and give her comfort, but he was running out of strength. "We had nineteen good years," he reminded her, his voice raspy from the pneumonia that had ravaged his body. It was only a matter of time now.

"It should've been twenty," she exhaled, choking back a sob. "It should've been twenty-five, but you had to be stupid and go out to the cabin with the dogs and –"

"Oh, cara," he breathed. "I don't want to go but I can't keep fighting."

"I am never going to forgive you," she whispered. "Never, not ever – Dave, don't you dare leave me…"

But her words fell on deaf ears. He'd already drawn his last breath.

Her heartbroken cries echoed through the house, their house, and the dogs began to howl with their mistress's hysterical anguish. Nineteen years, they had been happy – and now there was only pain.

* * *

By the time the door slammed open and Christina raced up the stairs, the mortuary people were loading up her father's body. "Mama," she whispered, pushing past the strangers and latching onto her mother's side. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry – I drove as quickly as I could…"

"I know," Penelope murmured. "Your brother hasn't gotten home from his football game yet. I didn't want to pull him away."

"That's not fair to Luca – maybe he needed to say good-bye," Christina said.

"Daddy told him to go," Penelope whispered. "And play for him. I just… what am I going to do now?" she asked her daughter. "What now?"

"You're going to do what you always do," Christina said. "One foot in front of the other foot in front of the other foot – remember? That's what you told me when you had cancer, remember? One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. Dad wouldn't want you to –"

"He should still be here," Penelope exploded, shoving Christina away. "He shouldn't have gone out in the weather alone at his age – but we had an argument about something old and stupid and he just got his guns and took the dogs and went hunting. Stupid old man, thinking he was still…" She stopped speaking when her voice gave out completely, hung up on a broken sob.

"He wasn't that old," Christina said.

"How is eighty-three not that old?" Penelope asked, staring at her daughter.

"Dad always ate pretty well and exercised and stuff," Christina reminded her. "He could've gone on forever –"

"Then why didn't he?" Penelope asked caustically. "Why didn't he fight harder?"

Christina frowned and her brow furrowed. "Because bacteria and viruses don't care how old or young you are," she said softly. "Or how strong or weak you are. They just reproduce and kill you if they can. That's all there is to it."

"My logical daughter, the med student," Penelope sighed. "You're right – of course you're right. I just… I haven't been without him in so long that I can't… I can't do this alone, sweetheart."

"You're not doing anything alone, Mama," Christina assured her. "You've still got us – me and Luca. And all your friends…"

"You mean all the hangers-on?" Penelope dismissed sadly. "Sweetheart… I'd hardly call them friends. I'd call them snobs who have more money than sense. These people you think are my friends celebrate paying $20k for a bottle of wine."

"Yeah, but you and Dad have money – lots of it –"

"And have you ever seen us throw it to the wind willy-nilly?" Penelope shot back. "I don't really have friends anymore… just JJ and Emily, and I haven't seen them in… forever."

The heard the kitchen door slam open. "We did it!" Luca shouted, running through the house. "Dad, we –" He stopped just inside the door to the master suite and fell silent. He took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, "We won. We're going to State."

Penelope Garcia Rossi turned from the window, took a few steps and pulled her son into her arms. "He's proud of you," she whispered. "He's so proud of you. I promise. I swear it – he knew you were going to win, Luca. He knew it. He wanted you to go and play your heart out. I'm so sorry, baby – I'm so sorry…" She held her own grief back, letting him cry for them both. She had no tears left to give at the moment, only a deep, hollow emptiness in her heart.

* * *

"No, we're going to follow my husband's instructions to the letter," Penelope said firmly. "He didn't want this to be a wake – he wanted it to be a celebration of life. Of our life together, and our children's lives and…" She swallowed hard and reached for her glass of water. When she'd wet her hoarse throat, she continued, "And the lives of everyone we helped through the BAU. He didn't want a funeral. He wanted it to be happy."

Aaron Hotchner's face was still stony. "Penelope, you do realize that he just didn't want you to suffer, right?" he asked. "That's why he wanted it to be happy. Because he loved you and he loved the kids and he wanted you to remember all of the good things –"

She licked her lips and stared at her husband's lawyer – her former friend. "I know," she whispered. "And that's why we should follow his wishes."

"Even the one about playing 'Don't Worry, Be Happy'?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, well, maybe not that one," she said, laughing a little. "Even he thought that was a little over the top, but he put it in anyway because that was Luca's favorite song when we would drive out to the…" Her voice trailed off and she sighed. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" she asked him.

"Everything matters," Hotch said. "Especially the little things."

Penelope looked up at him and murmured, "I know things went south in a hurry between you and me when Jack and Christina eloped and then got divorced. I'm sorry I was a catty bitch, but – can we put it behind us and be friends again?"

Hotch sighed. "Some things are best left as they are, Mrs. Rossi," he said, gathering his things. "I'll make the arrangements and give you a call in the morning. I assume you'll sign the check when the time comes?"

She nodded, her frown deepening. "I am sorry," she said very quietly. "I never meant to hurt you or Jack. I just… I had to take Christina's side. I'm her mother. Until you're on that line, you never know which way you're going to step, do you?"

"Blood is thicker than friendship," Hotch said, locking his briefcase and walking away.

* * *

"Morgan," he grunted into the phone, smothering a yawn. He was back to working the graveyard shift and someone calling him at the buttcrack of noon was going to get them killed.

"You sound chipper," Hotch said sarcastically down the line.

"You woke me up," Derek growled.

"There's no easy way to say this," Hotch said. "David Rossi died last night. Pneumonia on top of his heart condition. The funeral is on Thursday at four. The visitation is Wednesday evening."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because you were friends."

Derek swung his legs out of bed and started pacing as soon as his feet hit the floor. "Yeah," he said, "we were. Once. But not anymore."

"You're in his will, Morgan – the least you can do is show up."

Derek stopped still in his tracks. "Why the hell would I be in Rossi's will after…"

"You'll know when you show up," Hotch replied.

"How's Jack?" Derek asked. "Doing okay up in Washington?"

"He's fine," Hotch said. "He's getting serious with a nice girl. He's been a little gun-shy after the incident."

"Well, that's to be expected – eloping and then finding out your bride is a psycho? That takes the cake."

"I might have been a little overly harsh in describing her," Hotch said cautiously. "But they made the right decision to get divorced."

"I'll be there," Derek said with a sigh. "I just can't guarantee that I'm going to be happy about it."

"I can't guarantee that the Widow Rossi will be very happy about it, either," Hotch snorted. "She's being melodramatic, like her world is ending."

Derek sat down hard in his broken-down old recliner. "Losing the person you love isn't easy," he said. "You know that. The world does end. But then it starts again." He sighed and said, "Besides, she loves him. She always did. It's okay. She's allowed to break."

Hotch sighed down the line. "Morgan, if I were you, I'd be more upset about her than you are."

Derek's lips quirked up into a wry smile. "You're about nineteen years too late with that advice," he commented. "But thank you anyway, Aaron. I'll see you Wednesday."

He hung up the phone and sat there for a long time. He wasn't angry, not anymore. How could he be? They'd both made their decisions and that was that. He had a sixteen year old daughter and a fourteen year old son, and he'd had six blissful years with Terri before she'd died. He couldn't complain.

And she'd clearly been happy – he'd seen the wedding pictures, the photos that were forwarded by email to him from their colleagues. Penelope's kids were just like her, all smiles and laughter. He couldn't fault her for wanting to have that.

He just wished that…

No, the past was past and over and done.

He got to his feet and crossed the apartment to the computer, quickly ordering three round-trip flights for him and the kids. No way he was leaving them with Sarah again. That was a recipe for disaster. His sister was a very indulgent aunt. And the last thing he needed was Mick stealing his motorcycle again. Derek had almost grounded him into the middle of the next century – till Wanda had sprung it on him that she needed birth control or condoms or something.

Yeah, they were coming with him.

Or they were going to be duct taped to their beds for three days. Either way, they were going to behave themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

Part two:

* * *

Luca and Christina had taken the chance to go get dinner without their mother, so Penelope was sitting in the living room, thinking about how big and empty and lonely the house was without Dave in it. She shivered and pulled her cardigan tighter around her. The fire was nothing but embers now, so she got up and put another log on, stoking it to flames. Then she flopped back onto the couch, remembering so many times they'd spent sitting in front of the fire for no reason but to spend time together.

To say that her heart was heavy with grief was an understatement. It felt like someone had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart – then ran around taunting her with it much to her pain and anguish. She sipped her coffee and sighed.

She was just about to curl up and go to sleep when the doorbell rang.

Who could it be? The kids had keys and alarm codes. Their friends had all called and shared their condolences already…

She got up and headed to the front door, knowing she looked as haggard and dismal as she felt. One look through the peep hole and her heart suddenly soared. She flung the door wide open and rushed to hug JJ tightly. "Oh my god, you don't even know how happy I am to see you," Penelope sobbed.

"I just got in the car and drove as soon as Hotch called," JJ whispered, holding Penelope tightly. "All I could think about was you and the kids being alone right now, and no one should be alone through this. No one."

"Déjà vu," Penelope murmured.

"Yeah, you told me the same thing," JJ said with a sad smile. "Oh, honey, you look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Penelope said with a sad sigh, tucking her sweater closer and retreating from JJ's arms. "You want something to drink? I could probably scare up something better than coffee –"

"Where're the kids?" JJ asked.

"They went out to get some supper," Penelope said softly. "I wasn't hungry, but they'll bring something back for me anyway, but it'll just go to waste. I couldn't eat if I tried right now."

"I know how you feel," JJ said, following her into the living room and settling on the couch with her legs tucked up beneath her. "I got a nice hotel room, so you don't have to worry about me being in the way or anything," she said. "And I can stay as long as you need me to. I've got plenty of time off accrued," she assured Penelope.

"We haven't talked since… I don't know when," Penelope sighed. "Why would you just drop everything and rush to my side?"

JJ reached over and patted Penelope's thigh comfortingly. "Because that's what friends do," she said very quietly. "They drop everything and come running and listen. You did it for me when Will was shot. And I thought I could never repay you."

Penelope sighed and shivered. "I'm so tired but I can't sleep," she said. "Between Dave and everything else…" She closed her eyes. "I don't know how I'm going to get through this, JJ. I really don't."

"It's going to be okay," JJ said.

Penelope shook her head. "No," she whispered. "No, it's not." She got up and stoked the fire, then went to the kitchen and got a couple bottles of hard cider and the church key. She popped the lid off her bottle and passed the bottle opener to JJ. "It's not going to be okay because Dave's not here," she said very quietly. "He was the only one who could help me through this. And… he's gone. Because we fought about it."

"I don't understand," JJ said, shaking her head.

"The cancer's back and worse than ever," Penelope said, her voice breaking. "I'm in late stage three already."

"Oh my god," JJ gasped. "No – not again –"

"How do you think I feel?" Penelope asked, taking a long swallow of cider. She looked down at the bottle in her hands, refusing to look up at the pity in JJ's eyes. "I told him I didn't think it was right to fight it again if all we'd already done just made it worse," she murmured. "I've already fought this twice, JJ. I can't do it again. And now, he's gone and I… I'd rather go be with him than fight a losing battle."

"What about the kids?" JJ asked.

"They're old enough to take care of themselves," Penelope sighed. "They're going to have to eventually, aren't they?"

"Are you going to tell them?"

Penelope shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. They had such a hard time with the treatments before – I shouldn't worry them now."

"Oh, honey," JJ sighed. "They're going to worry the moment they see you starting to waste away… what are you going to tell them then? That you just miss their dad so much that you stopped eating? They're going to stick you in the looney bin."

Penelope sighed again and finally looked up from her drink and into the kind, loving eyes of her best friend. "I can't do it alone," she whispered, the last bit of her heart shattering as the words left her lips.

"No one is asking you to," JJ murmured, moving to hug her and comfort her. "No one is asking you to do anything alone," she breathed softly.

* * *

Christina and Luca stepped out of the sanctuary and closed the doors behind them. Luca immediately headed toward the parking lot – he had football practice and he couldn't miss it with the championships right around the corner. He'd already said goodbye to his father, and he was okay with missing the visitation, and the funeral if necessary.

Christina glanced around the antechamber, looking for familiar faces – there were a few, and then she squealed in giddy glee. "Auntie Em! Uncle Spencer!" she cried, rushing over to hug them. "I didn't think you'd be able to come!"

"We almost couldn't," Emily said, hugging her back. "Stand back and let me get a look at you, young lady – my god, when did you get so tall?"

"A while ago," Christina said with a little smile. "How is England? I miss it – I wish Mama and Dad would've let me travel instead of going straight into school. I would totally have bummed in your flat."

Reid laughed. "You know, I think you would've," he said in an amused voice. "But you're always welcome to crash on the couch whenever you're in London, no questions asked. Just make sure we know you're coming."

"I'll take you up on that one of these days," Christina said with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry you had to drop everything to come home for this…"

"How's your mom holding up?" Emily asked worriedly. "Hotch said she's really upset."

"If Uncle Spencer died all of a sudden, wouldn't you be really upset, too?" Christina shot back. "She's… fine. I guess. She hasn't really said much since it happened. Luca and I keep finding ways to get out of the house because she's starting to creep us out a little."

"She's not fine, then," Reid said firmly. "We should all sit down and have dinner and talk and catch up –"

Christina's smile turned sad. "Maybe later," she said. "Mama's in the sanctuary, talking to the funeral director and making sure that Daddy looks perfect for everyone. She was talking to him earlier like nothing happened and they were just going out for a walk when they carried the casket in. It was definitely weird."

"Maybe less so than you think," Reid began, but Emily cut him off with a kiss. "Never mind."

"Hey, it looks like I'm missing all the fun over here, "JJ said, joining them. "What's up, my bitches?" She and Reid did their secret handshake, and she gave Emily a huge hug. "How's Scotland Yard? Are they treating you guys okay over there? Henry and I miss you!"

"We're fine," Emily said with a smile. "Work is fine, the flat's great, and my husband… well, I can't complain too much." She gave him another kiss and snuggled up against his side. "Now, this jet lag, I could do without."

"Do I ever know that feeling," Reid agreed with a crooked smile.

The sanctuary doors opened and Penelope stepped through them, passing through the crowd without a word or a second glance before she was out of sight. "Wow, that was quick," JJ said wryly.

Christina shrugged – she didn't want to know how the inside of her mother's head was working about now. It was a scary thought. She glanced around the room again and her gaze settled on Jack Hotchner – her ex-husband… and the only man she'd probably ever love. Feeling a little dizzy, she excused herself and went outside for a cigarette.

Yeah, she knew it was a bad habit – a nervous habit – and that it probably didn't behoove a future doctor to smoke, but at times like this, she didn't care all that much. She settled onto a bench that looked out on the parking lot and marveled at the sheer number of cars in the concrete jungle. She really didn't think her parents knew that many people.

She watched people getting out of their cars and going inside, some of them acknowledging her as they passed her. Some of them knew who she was – others were total strangers. Her father had been famous as an author and as a pioneer in behavioral analysis, and he had more than his fair share of groupies. Her mother had always had to beat the really willing ones off with a stick, though.

She took a deep drag on the cigarette and stubbed her toes in the dirt under the bench, wondering why it was so hard to deal with funerals.

"You look like you don't want to be here," a man with a deep, gravelly voice said in a slightly amused tone.

"Mmm, watching people tell my mom how good a person my dad was isn't my idea of a good time," Christina shot back, dropping the cigarette butt in the dirt and twisting it out with her shoe. "I'm sure now that you know who I am, you're going to tell me how sorry you are my dad died."

The man smiled and said, "Nope. Your father was a dirty rotten bastard," he said, leading his kids down the walkway. "I'm just here for the food."


	3. Chapter 3

Part three:

Penelope leaned against the sink, her knuckles white with the effort of hanging onto the vanity. Her breathing slowly settled after being violently ill as she looked in the mirror and shuddered. She had to pull herself together – Dave would be ashamed of her if he were there. But, really, he wouldn't have… he would've been the one holding her hair and rubbing her back, like he always had.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and rinsed her mouth out. "Well, he's not coming to rescue you this time, Princess, so you better pull up those big girl panties of yours," she said to her reflection caustically, "and grow up."

The bathroom door opened and JJ stepped in. "Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?"

"Define okay," Penelope replied. "I'm alive, which seems to be a victory in and of itself, doesn't it? But am I okay? I don't know." She groaned, then sighed. "I got sick."

"I know," JJ said simply. "But you're not sick now – and I know how hard it is to open up to people right now. Believe me, I know. You need to, though; you have to. You can't let yourself sink, Garcie."

"Who's out there?" Penelope asked.

"The old team," JJ said. "Chrissy went outside to smoke, but she'll be back. I saw Derek Morgan and his kids come in –"

Penelope stopped in her tracks and said, "I suppose Hotch told him."

"Of course," JJ said.

"I hope he doesn't turn this into amateur theatrical hour," Penelope sighed, drying her face with a scratchy paper towel.

"He looks good," JJ said.

"Oh, fuck off," Penelope muttered, reapplying her lipstick and turning on her heel. "On to the profilers, then."

When they left the bathroom, Christina was waiting for them. "Hey, Mama," she said softly, opening her arms to hug her mother. "I'm sorry I've been snarky. Must be all the death and the whole accidentally meeting Jack again thing," she sighed, frowning. "It all hurts more than I thought it would."

Penelope kissed her daughter's cheek. "God, ain't that the truth, sugar pop?" she murmured. "I keep waiting to wake up and have your Dad tell me it's all my fault for eating Cheez-Its in bed at night."

Christina giggled. "You still eat Cheez-Its in bed?" she asked.

Penelope grinned at her. "Sometimes, I get frisky and break out a bag of Doritos and a can of squeeze cheese," she admitted. "But usually only when Dad goes hunting."

Christina's smile vanished completely. "Mama –"

Penelope bit her lip and nodded. "I know."

"I'm sorry –"

"Not your fault," Penelope said firmly, squeezing her daughter's hand. "He loved you and your brother so much. You know that, right? You guys were his everything."

"Like hell we were," Christina scoffed, pushing her bangs back out of her eyes. "His sun rose and set with you, Mama. I want that kind of love –"

"You'll get it," her mother assured her. "And when you find it, neither heaven nor earth will keep you from him… or her."

Christina rolled her eyes. "Mama."

"I mean it – you shouldn't discount the gift because of the package it comes in," Penelope said softly. "Besides… your father and I weren't a perfect couple. Far from it, in fact." She looped her daughter's arm around hers and they walked down the corridor slowly. "But we were happy."

They walked into the foyer and Penelope smiled sadly at Christina, then looked at the crowd. "And look at all the people whose lives he touched," she whispered. "Just look."

For the first time, Christina really understood.

* * *

"Chrissy –"

Christina turned around and her smile vanished, replaced with a frown. "Jack," she said.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Jack Hotchner said. "He was a good guy."

"Me too," she agreed. "Sorry – about my dad, I mean." Damn it, why did she suddenly feel like she was eighteen and stupidly head over heels again? She couldn't even form a coherent thought. Almost two years had passed and she still had zero perspective. "Mama's just barely holding it together. I don't know what to do to help her."

"What about you?" he asked. For a moment, it seemed like old times – they were best friends again, holding hands and whispering secrets…

"I'm fine," she said, extracting her hand from his. "I hear you have a girlfriend. I hope you guys are happy together." With that, she took a deep breath, turned on her heel and walked away.

He could only have power over her if she let him – and she wasn't in the mood to let him have anything but a nice view of her ass as she strolled as far away from him as she could.

* * *

"I don't see why we had to come," Wanda whined. "I had a date tonight –"

Derek glared at her, and she shut her mouth in a hurry. "I thought we had this discussion about dating college boys before," he growled. "Not happening when you live under my roof."

"I had a test in Honors' English," Mick sighed, "and now I'll miss it and my GPA's going to go down and it's your fault because you dragged me to Virginia to go to some guy's funeral – and you didn't even like the dude."

"Enough," Derek snapped, his voice low and tight. "All I've heard since I told you two brats to pack your bags is how much I'm ruining your lives by taking you on this trip. Shut up and pay your respects. Rossi may have been a son of a bitch and a hell of a piece of work, but he saved a lot of people's lives." He glanced over at Wanda. "Including yours, young lady. So you will haul your ass over there and say something nice to Mrs. Rossi, or I will stop paying your fabric bills. Don't try me, Wanda Marie."

Wanda heard the threat in her father's voice and cocked her head for a moment, looking at him. "You didn't tell me that he saved my life," she said.

Derek swallowed hard and nodded. "When your mom took you guys out with her the night she died," he said quietly. "Rossi and Hotch pulled you guys out of the car." His voice cracked and he stopped speaking, remembering that night – for an ex-profiler, he'd done a shitty job of profiling his late wife. She'd been running drugs for one of the heaviest high-profile rings in Chicago at the time and she'd taken their kids out with her the whole time she was running. It still made him sick to think about her singing nursery rhymes and silly songs to the kids in the back of the car while the doors were packed with crack. A high speed FBI chase later, she was dead and his kids were in the hospital for a couple of weeks – but he thanked god every day that Rossi and Hotch had gotten to them in time. Even if they were shithead brats… besides, that was Derek's own fault.

Wanda's haughty mask slipped a little. "You never said," she accused.

"Because Rossi's a bastard," Derek sighed. "But… I owe him this much. And so do you two." He nudged them forward, toward the line of people to see Rossi's corpse. He watched them for a long time before he realized someone was watching him. "JJ, I'm not in the mood," he grunted.

JJ came over and gave him a hug. "It's been a while," she acknowledged. "You guys should come down for Christmas – just to get away from Chicago."

"That would involve taking time off from work, which I shouldn't have done for this," Derek sighed. "I'm working my ass off and can barely make ends meet, as is."

"You need a better job," JJ replied, nudging him. "Aren't you going to hug me back, Grumpy?"

He sighed and hugged her. "I bet you got here before the rest of us and you've been trying to comfort the widow," he commented passively.

"Absolutely," JJ replied. "You expected anything else?"

Derek shook his head and sighed. "I just told them," he said, gesturing to his kids. "About what happened the night their mom died."

JJ's eyes clouded with tears. "Oh, Derek –"

"It's been so long and I never told them that Rossi and Hotch pulled them out of that fucking car," he whispered. It was hard to make the words come out. "I didn't want them to blame her, JJ – even though it was her fault. I don't blame her anymore… I'm just glad the kids were okay even if she wasn't." He ran his hands through his short hair. "I can't go in there right now."

JJ hugged him again and sighed. "Then don't," she murmured. "Take your time. It's okay."

"He was a bastard," Derek said, "a fucking son of a bitch –"

"Yeah, he was," she agreed, "but he didn't even hesitate to save your daughter from that car, Morgan. You have to remember that much."

"I do," he sighed. "That's why I can't go in there. I can't let them see me cry." He turned on his heel and pulled out of JJ's embrace before he walked away.

* * *

"Mrs. Rossi?"

Penelope turned at the sound of the voice – young, so young. "Yes?" she asked, excusing herself from her conversation with one of Dave's old military buddies.

The girl looked nervous. "I'm Wanda Morgan," she said quietly, "and this is my brother, Michael."

Penelope studied her for a moment, and felt her heart breaking all over again. "It's good to meet you," she said, extending her hand to each teenager in turn. "I'm glad you were able to come."

"Dad said Mr. Rossi saved my life," Wanda said.

Penelope swallowed hard. "Yes," she said very quietly. "Did your father tell you that Dave got hurt crawling into the car to get you? He would've laid down heaven and earth to get you out of that car – because he knew your mother was gone and Derek couldn't lose you kids, too." She pulled her hand away and quickly wiped away her tears. "How are you two?" she asked. "I haven't heard anything about you – come tell me everything," she insisted.

"I'm going to be a designer," Wanda said. "I've already started making clothes for my friends – Dad hates it when I go on buying binges."

"I want to write," Mick spoke up hesitantly.

Penelope wondered why he was so quiet, but Wanda said, "Don't mind him – just make sure he can see your lips when you're talking."

Mick smiled crookedly, that very Derek Morgan smile, and said, "I can only hear in my left ear. You're on my right side – I can't hear what you're saying, Mrs. Rossi. It's okay – don't get upset. I can read lips and speak sign language."

"Oh," Penelope said. "No one told me –"

He shrugged. "Been like this as long as I can remember," Mick replied with a laugh. "I'm used to it now. And Dad doesn't cut me any slack, so…"

"Of course he doesn't," Penelope said. "And I'm sure he doesn't cut anyone any slack."

"You're not like he said you are," Wanda said after a moment of silence. "He said you're cold and mean. You're not."

Penelope smiled sadly. "I'll tell you guys a secret," she said softly, "but you have to promise not to tell your father."

"Okay," Mick agreed immediately.

Wanda hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

Penelope leaned in closer to them and said, "Your dad is one of the best men I've ever known, and even if he doesn't love me anymore… I still love him." She kissed both of them on the cheek and said, "Why don't you guys go get something to eat? There are sandwiches downstairs."

She watched them leave, thinking that, in another lifetime, they could have been hers.


	4. Chapter 4

Part four:

Derek watched Penelope from across the room. He couldn't help but feel the dismal pang of jealousy and anger again, knowing that time didn't heal all wounds. No, sometimes, all that the passage of time did was make it all that much worse.

She didn't look anything like she had the last time he'd seen her. Her curves were gone – if anything, she was bordering on too thin for his tastes now. Her breasts were still large and perfect – too perfect. They had to be fake. No one her age had a right to have perfect breasts anymore. Her legs were still shapely, but he couldn't look at them long before he remembered how good they felt around his waist – and that was a problem he needed alcohol, and lots of it, to deal with.

Time hadn't been kind to her – her hair was stark white, aside from a bit of it which she'd died black. When she put it up, like it was now in a bun, it looked like a swirl. Her clothes were conservative, her makeup simple. Penelope Rossi was not the same woman he'd been in love with twenty years ago. His Baby Girl was well and truly gone, replaced by a stranger who would not be happy to see him.

The hate ran both ways with them.

He had just about steeled his nerves to go talk to her when Reid clapped his hand down on Derek's shoulder. "Hey," he said. "I didn't think we'd see you here."

Derek sighed and looked at his old friend. "How's London?" he asked.

"Same as always," Reid replied. "I saw your kids – they're really growing up, aren't they?"

"You and Emily ever regret not having any?" Derek asked.

Reid shook his head. "Nah. Passing on the predisposition to mental illness is not my idea of responsible parenting. Emily's fine with that – but we are looking into maybe adopting."

Derek nodded, his eyes following Penelope as she moved through the room, talking to everyone in turn. Damn it, why did she still have to be so damn beautiful? Twenty years should've made it easier, but it only made it worse. "Good on you, man," he said to Reid. "Or you could just take one of mine – I doubt they'd complain. I'm the worst dad that ever lived, according to Wanda."

Reid laughed. "She's a spitfire, I'll give you that," he commented wryly. "I wonder where she got that from."

Derek laughed, the sound sudden and harsh. "Yeah, I wouldn't know anything at all about that," he said. "I'm completely innocent of any and all wrong-doing…"

Christina came out of nowhere and said, "Uncle Spencer, I don't mean to interrupt – but Mom asked if you and Auntie Em would like to come by the house later."

"Of course," Reid said.

Christina looked Derek up and down, then said, "You're in some of my parents' photos – but they never talk about you. I don't even know your name."

"Morgan," he said. "Derek Morgan."

There was a hint of something in her eyes that he couldn't get a good read on, then it was gone. "Mr. Morgan, I'm Christina Rossi," she said, extending her hand. "And for being here for the food, you've eaten surprisingly little of it."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Oh, no, at least you were honest," Christina said, a smile returning to her lips. "He kind of was a bastard at times – but aren't we all?"

Derek stared at her hand for a moment longer, then he reached out to shake it. "That we are," he agreed.

"I noticed you haven't gone in to see him," Christina said. "Either of you."

"Ah, yeah, I don't want to see Rossi corpsified and gross," Reid said. "I'd rather he remain intact like my memories of him." He tapped the side of his head and shuddered slightly.

"And your excuse is that you hate my dad," Christina supplied for Derek. "Trust me – if Mama hadn't dragged me in there, I wouldn't have been able to look in the coffin. I watch too many horror movies – I almost expected him to jump up and grab me." Her laugh was sad, and Derek found himself putting an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise.

"Dealing with death is never easy," was all he said.

"Death of any kind," Christina said, and Derek caught her looking over at Jack Hotchner and his girlfriend. "But, anyway, I was going to say that there are sandwiches downstairs, if you're hungry. I need to go. Mama needs her meds soon – with everything going on today, she'll forget." She pulled away from him and left without another word, good or bad.

"She's not like I thought she'd be," Derek commented.

"Hotch always made her out to be to blame for the marriage – and the divorce," Reid said. "But I don't think all of it was her fault." He shrugged and sighed. "These things happen, I guess – I mean, we all thought you and Garcia would be inseparable. Look how wrong we were." He said, "Excuse me, I'm going to go make sure Emily knows we're going to the house later."

Derek turned and saw the reason for Reid's hasty departure. Penelope in all of her tarnished glory had finally come to a stop near him, and looked like she was having trouble reconciling what she was seeing.

"JJ said you were here," she said very quietly, wringing her hands nervously. "And I've been busy –"

He forced a smile. "Yeah, I know."

She looked him straight in the eye and murmured, "Thank you for coming – I know it can't be easy for you or your kids to just drop everything like this."

"Did your daughter make you take your pills?" Derek asked.

Penelope raised her chin and said, "She told you –"

"That you'd forget your meds if she didn't remind you."

The alarm in her eyes subsided a little and she nodded stiffly. "Yeah, I got my pills," she said, forcing a smile much like he was. "I'm glad you're here, Derek. I am. I know we haven't been on good terms in a long time, but I never meant for us to get this out of control –"

He felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. "Yeah, well…"

"I met your kids," she said, cutting him off when he would've said something he might regret later. "You've done a good job with them – it can't be easy raising a disabled child."

"Yeah, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Derek asked. "Your kids are perfect – the future doctor and the football star…"

She looked at him like he'd slapped her. "You should be glad that you have them at all," she said, her voice cold and hard. All of the softness was gone in an instant, and she was ready to do battle. "You do realize that Dave and Hotch didn't have to risk their lives to go in that car, don't you? Or does the sun rise and set with your own fucking guilt?"

"Oh, don't even start with me about the guilt, woman – you never felt a damn thing –"

He wasn't expecting what happened next.

The room fell silent as the sound reverberated around the room. She'd slapped him hard enough to whip his neck to the side and leave a rising welt on his face.

"Don't ever – EVER – tell me what I felt," Penelope hissed. "Especially not now."

For just a moment, he saw his Penelope again before she vanished completely back into the shell of a woman she'd become. And he wanted her back so badly that he reached for her.

She took a step back and shook her head. "Don't," was all she said before she walked away.

"Penelope –"

She hesitated in her trek, then turned over her shoulder and said, "You made your bed, Morgan. Now you can fucking sleep in it."

With that, she was gone, Christina and JJ scrambling to keep up with her.

Hotch came over and said, "That wasn't overly dramatic or anything. Good job on being inconspicuous."

Derek shook his head and clenched his teeth. "I never thought she'd hit me –"

"Yeah, well, you'll never make that mistake again, will you?" Hotch countered. "Maybe you and the kids should go back to the hotel and get some rest. I'd like to think you can keep a civil tongue in your head tomorrow."

Derek's jaw clenched more, if that was possible. "I'll keep my mouth shut," he muttered, well aware of the gossip swirling in the room now that she was gone.

If anything, it made him feel sadder that he hadn't been able to let go.

* * *

Penelope waited till everyone was done eating and sharing happy memories with lots of laughter before she passed around the tray of cookies and Bailey's coffee. "So," she said, "I have something I need to tell all of you." She looked around the room, at her children and the last of her friends – baby-faced Spencer Reid, Emily Reid and her saucy, inappropriate love for her husband, and kind, sweet JJ – and hesitated. "Thank you for coming. I couldn't do this without all of you."

Luca rolled his eyes. "Mom, really?" he asked, blushing a little.

Penelope felt her composure starting to crumble. "Which is why it's so hard for me to… to say this," she said, her voice breaking.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Christina said, immediately abandoning her snack and rushing to steady Penelope. "Mama –"

"They found a new tumor," Penelope finally managed to say, "it's attached to the lymph nodes in my right armpit. There are a couple of smaller growths that they're monitoring, but it looks like my cancer is recurring, and more aggressively than ever."

Luca got up and wrapped his mother and sister in a bear hug. "Mom, it's okay," he said. "It's going to be okay – you can beat it again."

Penelope stared at JJ, who was sitting in Dave's recliner, crying. And then the shocked, horrified, faces of Emily and Reid. And she felt a horrible, twisting feeling in her stomach. "Yeah," she whispered, kissing Luca's forehead and Christina's cheek. "I can beat it again – but it's going to be hard."

"I'll talk to one of my professors," Christina said quietly. "He's an oncologist – he can give you another opinion, but you'll have to come to Chicago for the tests."

Penelope nodded, not trusting her voice. She couldn't tell them that she'd already decided not to seek treatment. She couldn't tell them that she would be leaving them just as abruptly as their father had.

She wouldn't put them through hell again.

"Please don't tell anyone," she pleaded quietly. "I don't want – I don't want anyone to think I'm saying this just to get more sympathy for Dave's death. He knew before he died."

"How long have you known?" Reid asked.

Penelope looked at him, her gaze cold. "A few weeks," she said.

The look on his face shifted suddenly into an unreadable mask. He knew her intentions and wouldn't interfere in front of the kids; that much she knew. But she was going to have to explain everything to him, and she knew it would be one of the worst conversations of her life.

"Please, especially don't tell Hotch or Morgan," Penelope said firmly. "I can live with everyone else in the world pitying me, but those two? No. Never."

"I know why Hotch is mad at you," Christina said, "but why is Morgan? What did you do that was so bad that you guys hate each other so much?"

Penelope smiled sadly. "Never you mind, sweetheart – just… remember that when you really love someone and they don't love you back, it hurts like hell. And you'll do stupid things to make them see you again, but by then… it's too late." She stroked her daughter's cheek and murmured, "I'm going to bed. You can leave the dishes and I'll clean up in the morning."

She went up to bed, her heart finally going numb.


	5. Chapter 5

Part five:

_She was so beautiful – why did she always have to be so damn gorgeous? All dressed in poofy white flounces and lace with a tye-dyed veil and that stupid smile on her face. She shouldn't be so happy to marry him – why was she marrying him at all?_

_What could Penelope possibly see in that old ladies' man anyway? How could David fucking Rossi possibly rate higher on Penelope Garcia's Richter scale than Derek Morgan? They were explosive together! Fireworks and supernovas had nothing on their chemistry – they were explosive._

_Why was he even here? How could he just sit by and watch her marry that… bastard. That was the only word that Derek could settle on that had as much rage as he felt right now._

_She had a fucking baby with Rossi, for god's sake – what a way to move on. And now this… travesty, this sham of a wedding._

"_If anyone present has any legal or moral objections to these two marrying, may they speak now or forever hold their peace," the priest was saying._

_It was like a shake to Derek's soul. He was going to lose her forever if he didn't at least say something – anything. He stood up and his feet seemed like they were moving of their own accord, faster and faster till he was at the altar, taking her hands, looking at the shock and dismay in her eyes._

_Dismay? Why? She should be glad he wanted to save her from the mistake she was about to make!_

"_Derek, what are you doing?" Penelope whispered._

"_Damn it, Penelope, I'm still in love with you," he said, knowing if the words never left him, she would never know. And he needed her to know – he needed her to realize how much he needed her back, needed her in his life. He was falling apart without her. "Baby Girl, please… I was an idiot, a stupid damn fool, and I know it, okay? I threw us away and it was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my fucking life. Please don't do this – don't marry him." He knew his voice was spitting venom, but he wanted to hurt Rossi, to make him suffer for taking her away from him. "Give me another chance – we can make this work. I don't care that you had a baby with him – I just… I need you, Baby Girl. Please." He was holding her hands, begging her shamelessly, and all she could do was stare at him with that dismay and shock in her eyes…_

_And she pulled her hands from his and turned to Rossi. "I'm sorry," she said very quietly, taking his hand again and squeezing it. "Father, will you please continue with the ceremony?"_

_If she'd ripped his still-beating heart from his chest and stomped on it, he couldn't possibly feel worse. He'd given everything to – and she just –_

_He backed away, feeling shame and anger building up in his belly. She turned and spared him a glance that spoke so many more volumes than she could ever have spoken, then her attention was back on her fiancé and the priest._

_Derek stumbled out of the church, pausing outside the door to retch in the flowers. He'd begged her and pleaded with her, and for what? All for nothing._

He woke up in an icy sweat with an anguished cry on his lips.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Wanda mumbled from the other hotel bed. "You okay?" she asked sleepily.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Go back to sleep – I just had a nightmare."

The worst kind – the kind rooted in truth.

* * *

"_So, if we don't have a case, I'm going to come visit next weekend," Penelope said excitedly. It had been almost two months since she'd seen Derek, and she was chomping at the bit to get to Chicago and have herself a nice tall glass of hot chocolate. "You can take me to that little Indian place you were telling me about – the one with the really good…" She stopped and said, "Sugar pop, what's wrong? You haven't said a word to me since you picked up the phone."_

_She heard his sigh crackling down the line. "Baby Girl… this isn't working."_

"_What isn't working?" she asked. "I can put in for a transfer – you know that. I mean, you specifically told me not to do just that because the BAU needs me and –"_

"_No, you're right," he said. "The BAU needs you. Very much."_

_She swallowed hard, reading between the lines. "Oh. I see," she whispered. "The BAU needs me, but you don't anymore. That's… that's how it is, then, is it?"_

_He sighed again. "Penelope, I met someone. And I don't feel right going out with her, knowing that I'm going to hurt you –"_

_She barked a hard, harsh laugh. "Oh, so you think you aren't hurting me right now? You think you're making me feel better by making me feel miserable because I didn't fucking transfer into your office to be your fuck buddy? Well, you know what, Derek Morgan? You're a lousy boyfriend. So take that bottle of '74 pinot noir you've been saving for our anniversary and shove it up your ass."_

_She hung up and threw her headset across the office._

_Of all the times for him to be a bastard, the day she found out she was pregnant – for sure – was certainly highest on her list. If she didn't love him so damn much, she'd erase him from the face of cyberspace._

_He'd come crawling back in a few days, and she'd be ready._

Penelope woke up wrapped around a pillow like she had so many times when Derek had first broken things off with her. She held the pillow tighter, a miserable noise leaving her lips as she cried, and cried and cried. She really had nothing left now.

She should be ashamed of having hit him, but he'd accused her of being heartless – and god, she had felt everything. Everything. She had been shattered by his callous attitude toward their relationship, broken by Dave's insistence that they should invite him to the wedding, and decimated by Derek's final desperate attempt to win her back just because he couldn't fucking stand the fact that he couldn't have all the toys in the sandbox that he wanted.

And the day that Dave had come home and told her he was retiring because he'd torn the cartilage in his knee and was too old to be chasing after unsubs and saving babies, she'd blamed Derek and his wife for all of it. The wife whose crash had caused the whole mess in the first place – the wife who had been running drugs the entire time she'd known Derek. But she couldn't fault the children – Wanda was only three, and Mick wasn't even a year old when the crash had happened. They were innocent of everything, and she was so glad that Dave had protected them, no matter the cost.

But Derek had never said thank you – just called Hotch and Dave names for accusing his wife of doing such things… and he never took the words back, even when Terri had been proven guilty.

She wondered, sometimes, what life would've been like if she'd ignored him wanting her to stay in Virginia and had hopped a plane to Chicago instead. What would've happened if she'd transferred and been with him all the time. Would it have been the same outcome, but worse because they were together? Or would they have survived?

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He would have been a wonderful father to Christina, had he known – she had no doubt about that. But the harsh reality was that David Rossi had picked up the pieces of her broken heart and mended them with duct tape, bubblegum, and adoring smiles. They had bonded over coffee and stories about bad breakups and pregnancy books. And he'd been with her every step of the way.

Which is why, when he asked her to marry him, to let him provide for her and the baby… she hadn't felt guilty for saying yes. Because she loved him fiercely in a way that Derek Morgan could never touch. They might have started out on bad, shaky ground, but they had found a deep well of love and passion.

She didn't know if she was mourning Dave or herself.

Because the best part of her life was over, and she didn't have the strength to face the downhill slide she was taking head first.


	6. Chapter 6

Part six:

Having her children hovering was like having a couple of overprotective bodyguards, Penelope thought. They wouldn't let her out of their sight and she was already beginning to wish that she hadn't told them about the personal hell she was living. Someone was bound to ask questions, and they couldn't easily answer any of them.

Maybe she should thank Derek for provoking her into drama yesterday? They could blame her fragile state on that if nothing else.

But she'd woken up with stabbing pains running up and down her arm which had led to an ER visit to make sure she wasn't having a heart attack – no, it was just the tumors cutting off signals to her brain intermittently. Which explained the numbness, tingling, pain, and her inability to hold a pen most of the time now.

So Luca and Christina refused to leave her side. And they said nothing to JJ, Emily, or Reid about why they had missed breakfast, aside from a dismissive, "We kind of slept through the alarms."

She spoke briefly to the funeral director and said that she wouldn't be able to speak to the congregation like Dave had wanted her to and he'd agreed that, if she didn't feel up to it, she shouldn't be held to his request. She had settled into the front pew knowing that Christina and Luca would represent their family as well, if not better, than she could have. They were both more eloquent and far less blunt and to the point than she was.

The pins and needles in her arm were hard to get past. She sat like a stone, motionless, breathing deeply, holding back full-fledged tears only by singing '99 Bottles of Beer' in her head on repeat, just like she and Dave had done when the pain was too much in the earlier incarnations of the cancer – but it had never, never, been like this. Luca was tucked under her left arm like he'd always been when he was younger – and it didn't matter that he was taller and heavier than her, he would always be that little boy who couldn't read easily and just wanted his mother's assurance that the words did make sense and were real. And Christina sat as close as she could without making things worse. Penelope kept catching her daughter looking at her with worry, but a hint of a smile was all it took to banish the worry for a few minutes.

When the time came, Christina got up and went to the altar to speak. Penelope couldn't take her eyes off her – all red hair, one brown eye and one blue, pale white skin with freckles and Derek's lean, muscular frame. She knew that she had splotches of darker skin down her back and on her thighs like a permanent tan, but nowhere near as dark as Derek's skin. Thank god for recessive genes – Dave had been able to boast red-haired Italians in his family tree in the form of his great-grandmother, so no one had questioned why Christina looked the way she did. And even if she had looked like her biological father, Penelope would have taken anyone on toe-to-toe to tell them that it didn't matter what her biology was – David Rossi was her father.

He had raised her as if she had been his own flesh and blood – and she never knew anything different. Telling her would only have caused her to want things that she shouldn't have. To tell her that Derek Morgan, who hated her parents so thoroughly, was her real father would only have shattered the peace and would only have led to disappointment and hurt for everyone.

Christina never questioned why Luca was tall and heavy while she was tall and thin. Or why she didn't look much like her father – Penelope would just pull out the pictures of her mother and explain that she took more after her side of the family in looks, which was true. Except when she looked so much like Fran Morgan that it was uncanny – mainly when she was upset.

Her only wish was that Christina had been able to know Fran.

Luca got up to speak next and Christina took his place, snuggling into her mother's side and it was all Penelope could do to breathe and keep counting backward. The painkillers were wearing off – not that they did much to help in the first place – and when her index finger twitched from inactivity, it sent a wave of pain shooting through her arm.

She was vaguely aware of pushing Christina away and flying down the aisle, but it wasn't till she was in the bathroom being sick that it fully registered that she'd left the room at all. Her chest was heaving with the effort of keeping her pain repressed, the urge to gag and vomit again overwhelming her senses, making her flush and tingle from head to foot, adding to the pain.

They would all think she was a drama queen.

That she was so invested in her own grief that she was putting on airs.

That she was to be laughed at and derided.

She fumbled with the cap of her pain pills, sending another wave of agony through her system, and gave up. She threw the bottle at the mirror and slid to the floor, curling up in a ball as she let everything loose.

She didn't want to die, but she didn't think she could survive another fight like the last one. She didn't want to hurt anyone – not even Derek – but she couldn't seem to help herself. But most of all, she didn't want to be in that room, listening to how much Dave had loved her and everyone else in his grumpily curmudgeonish way. She didn't want to hear about it from anyone else because she knew how it felt to be loved by him and she wanted it back so badly she could taste it like the bile in her throat.

The door opened and she heard heavy, masculine footsteps. She couldn't bring herself to look at the intruder, just stayed tucked up and hid her breakdown.

Hotch said, in a tone surprisingly devoid of anything but compassion, "I'm sorry, Penelope – I wish I could say that it gets easier, but…"

She looked up at him, finally, blinking through her tears just enough to see that the blurry outline really was Aaron Hotchner and not just her imagination. "It never gets easier, does it?" she choked out. "It just gets harder and harder till you wish you could get off the roller coaster, right?"

He hesitated, then nodded, stooping down to get her pill bottle off the floor. "Yeah, but mostly, you get numb," he said very quietly. "It takes a lot of energy to feel like you do right now. You'll cope by being happy." He read the bottle, then tapped it. "Dave told me near the end about the cancer being back. And, I think… maybe I'm more pissed because you don't want to fight it than I'm pissed about what you said and did to Jack." He filled a paper cup with water and knelt beside her, opening the pill bottle and tapping out two pills. He helped her get them down, then aided her to her feet. "But… I can see why you've made this choice. Better it be quick and painful than lingering and devastating, right?"

"The treatments aren't a guarantee that I won't die anyway," she whispered. "If I can't have a reasonable certainty that I'll live through them, what's the point?"

"The point is that you have those two kids of yours to look out for, still," Hotch said firmly.

She smiled at him sadly. "Right now, I can't think past a minute from now and you're asking me to think about what could happen a month or even a year from now – just… forgive me, okay? I don't want to not be friends anymore, BossMan." She squeezed his hand and leaned on him for support.

"I forgive you on one condition," he said softly.

"Oh no, there are conditions?" she laughed harshly.

"Just one – that you tell your kids why you don't want to fight anymore."

She hesitated a moment, then whispered, "Before Christina goes back to Chicago." It was a tiny statement, a promise not made idly.

Her promises were not made idly. They were for keeps.

* * *

They sat around the living room with food and drinks as Hotch read the will. Penelope had disappeared upstairs not long after they'd arrived back from the cemetery, but no one wanted to talk about the elephant in the room.

"To my daughter, Christina, I leave the deed to the house she's been living in through college, and a one-time check for $7 million, to cover repairs to the house and student loans," Hotch read. "In time, she will be splitting Penelope's part of the estate with Luca, but this is just a little perk."

Christina burst into tears and left the room. Luca followed her and JJ looked like she might follow them, but Hotch held her back with a shake of the head.

"To my son, Luca, I leave the cabin," Hotch continued, "and all of the land I own around the cabin and the lake. We spent so much time there, I think he'd like that. Silly boy has a free ride playing football, but he deserves the same $7 million as his sister does, so there's a check to keep him comfortable till he figures out that football will only get him so far."

Derek sighed and took a swig of beer. Yeah, Rossi was still a bastard, even in death.

"To the Reids, I leave my coin and stamp collections. To Jennifer Jareau, I leave the guesthouse and the keys to the stables. You can sell the horses or keep them, but you are always welcome to stay. To Derek Morgan, I leave the manila envelope bearing his name, and its contents – as my apology." Hotch looked over at Morgan and held out an envelope.

Derek took it and stared at it silently, not wanting to open it in front of anyone else. His apology, hmm? Better be damn good.

Hotch read through all of the various and sundry things, charitable donations, etc., and came to the end. "Everything else, I leave to the love of my life – Penelope Garcia. She already knows how much I love her, but surrounding herself with reminders of us will keep that love alive. I never really told her that I fell in love with her the moment she taught me so patiently how to use that stupid tablet, or that I'd had a little high school crush on her since I rejoined the BAU. That I didn't rip her out of David Lynch's arms and sweep her off her feet is my only regret in this life. Cara mia, Kitten, Mama Bear, my love – never doubt my love for you, and always remember how happy we've been."

Derek looked up and saw that everyone – even Hotch, was crying.

Penelope stood in the doorway in a long, colorful silk robe and her hair in messy pigtails, her hand over her heart and her heart in her throat as she looked at them. Christina and Luca were in the kitchen, crying just as much.

And she felt numb.

All those names, all those pet names, the imploring way he wanted her to know how much he'd loved her, his confession of having a crush – it was all building to a regret in her belly, a pain that rivaled the stabbing in her arm that just refused to go away.

It was only the beginning.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said softly, jarring everyone back to reality, "but I need some help upstairs."

JJ immediately rose to her feet and came to guide her back up. "What do you need?" she asked.

"Pain pills and a bath," Penelope sighed. "I… can't open the pills and I can't turn on the water."

JJ nodded and put her arm around Penelope's waist. "You don't have to do this – any of it – alone," she promised very quietly. "I'm going to sell the house and come live in your guesthouse –"

"No," Penelope whispered. "No, I'm not going to uproot your life just because I'm sick."

"It's not because you're sick," JJ said, "it's because you're my sister and you need help."

Penelope didn't have the strength to talk her out of it right then, but she would eventually.


	7. Chapter 7

Part seven:

The envelope mocked him from across the hotel room. Seriously, Derek could hear it laughing in a little sarcastic voice – and pointing, too. Pointing and laughing at him for not being a man already and just opening the damn thing. The temptation of knowing what could be inside was just making him itch in the back of the brain. It could be a thousand things, a million things – an apology, a syringe full of poison, anything. All he knew was that the envelope was too heavy to just be a letter.

Mick and Wanda were sound asleep, and he couldn't sleep a damn wink. He was too used to being up and working the night shift – everything was upside down and he was too damn tired to fight the insomnia. So he got up, grabbed the envelope, and turned on his bedside lamp, trying not to disturb Mick too much.

He stared at the envelope and finally muttered, "You bastard – this is your final revenge, isn't it? Making me wonder what the fuck is in this damn thing." Grunting irritably, he popped it open and dumped the contents onto the bed.

Derek didn't know where to start. There were three smaller envelopes, one that said, "Read first," one that said, "open second", and the third which said, "third, but most important", and a check. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at the amount on the check. "Holy shit," he muttered. "I – what the hell."

Stunned, he opened the first envelope and his eyes widened even more. He read the document, then checked it for signs of forgery or tampering or – but there were none he could find. "No," he whispered. "No – not possible…" Because the birth certificate he was holding said _Christina Morgan Rossi_ on it. She was born May 22, 2013, at 6:38 AM, had weighed 6 lbs., 4 oz., and had been 18.5 inches long. Christina Morgan Rossi – it wasn't possible. Penelope wouldn't have – no, not his Baby Girl. She wasn't capable of deceiving him like that!

His hands were shaking as he opened the second envelope. It was a letter in Rossi's barely legible handwriting. Derek sighed and got his reading glasses out of their case and settled in to read.

_Morgan:_

_I know I'm dying, so I'm going to get straight to the point. There are a lot of things I regret in my life, but none moreso than not telling you that Christina is your daughter. She's my sweet little girl, but without you, I wouldn't have her. I owe you that much – and an apology._

_Penelope and I wanted what was best for Christina, and we honestly believe that we did the right thing in raising her without knowing that I am not her biological father. She is happy, healthy, and brilliant. I wouldn't change her for the world._

_If knowing that you're her father makes you want to seek out a relationship with her, know this – if you hurt her, ever, Penelope and Luca will make your life a living hell. I, on the other hand, will haunt the shit out of you if you do anything to my little girl, Derek. I'm not kidding. I will fuck you up from the great beyond and take great joy in it._

_You've missed Christina's entire life, and that is my fault. Every year on her birthday, she and Penelope take a special picture together – and you deserve to have my copies of them. It's the least I can do now._

_David Rossi_

He opened the final envelope and pulled out a handful of photographs. The first one, marked May 22, 2013 on the back, was of Penelope – holding a tiny baby in her arms, looking exhausted and deliriously happy as she beamed at the camera.

The next one – May 22, 2014 – was of the two of them, a pouty-faced baby girl with a wild shock of flame-red hair and huge eyes in a purple party dress, a sparkly paper hat, and picking her nose while Penelope obliviously smiled for the camera.

May 22, 2015, had Christina and her little red pigtails sitting on Penelope's shoulders and grinning at the camera like a goon – all teeth and squinty eyes, while her mother laughed.

He flipped through picture after picture, pausing on May 22, 2017. Penelope looked positively gaunt in that photo – and Christina was wearing a princess costume as she fed her mother some cake. Penelope was bald… He felt a sudden rush of anger when he realized that the photo was taken in a hospital, then the anger dissipated to dismay when he realized that he'd never even known she was sick.

The photos progressed in time, Christina growing up and looking more and more like his mom the older she got – how had he not seen it? _Because she looks like Penelope_, his logical side whined back at him – _Penelope and Momma_.

2029, his heart stopped cold. Penelope was curled up on the couch in a blanket, asleep – her head covered with a scarf to hide what he assumed was her bald head. And Christina was cuddled up with her, also asleep.

2030 was just a photo of Christina holding up a sign that said, "My Mama beat cancer and is too cool to be in the picture!" She was smiling and flashing the camera a thumb's up.

The most recent photo, from just a few months before, was of Penelope and Christina posing in front of a Broadway billboard, making funny faces and doing the "Rockettes" leg kick. He had to bite back a laugh at that – even now, there was an irresistible sense of life and love radiating off of Penelope. And Christina? God, his heart was aching just looking at her and knowing that she'd been his all along and he'd never known.

He put everything back into their envelopes, then got up and changed out of his pajamas. He didn't even look at the clock – he knew it was late, but his body was screaming for a cup of coffee to perk him up. He made sure Wanda and Mick were tucked up in bed and left the hotel room.

He drove around a few minutes before he found a diner that was open. He got a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie – but the pie was too sweet to eat. Some part of him had hoped that it was a sour apple pie to match his mood, so he ended up poking at it.

He paid, leaving a hefty tip for the waitress who looked rather like a truck stop hooker who'd stopped turning tricks, and left, going into the chilly night with a frown. He drove in circles for a while, finally parking the car in front of Rossi's mansion. He looked up at the dark façade of the house and wondered what the hell he was doing there. It was obvious that he wasn't wanted or needed here. But he felt compelled to come here – to talk to Penelope, to beg for answers to the questions he couldn't even ask.

He got out of the car, walked to the door, hesitated –

_If you don't do this, you'll never know the truth_, he told himself. _Don't you want to know why she lied to you?_

Only part of him did – the part that wanted to know why she couldn't love him enough to give him a second chance. The part that never stopped loving his Baby Girl. The part that could never let go.

He pushed the doorbell button and closed his eyes. Maybe he was wrong – maybe he didn't want to know that badly.

He heard dogs barking on the other side of the door, then heard movement. "Down, Harvey!" he heard Christina say firmly. "Hey, back up that ass, Hannah – back it up." He heard the door unlock, then open. One of the dogs growled angrily, and she snapped, "Oh, shut up." She looked up and said, "Mr. Morgan – what can I do for you at this fine asscrack of… three in the morning." She sounded, and looked, less than enthusiastic about being woken up.

A shrill, excited part of him screamed, _Look at her! Look at your daughter – she's amazing! She's so fucking full of life and she has no idea… none… that her parents ever kept anything from her. You could change that and she could be yours – everything you wanted from Penelope, all in this one little package known as Christina. Your daughter. Your blood. YOURS._

He cleared his throat, effectively silencing himself. "I… I needed to speak to your mother," he said. "But she wasn't in any shape to talk to me earlier –"

"It's three in the morning," Christina repeated. "What the hell makes you think she's going to be in any shape to talk to you NOW?"

Luca appeared behind her, looking grumpy and half-conscious. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Mr. Morgan was just asking to see Mama," Christina said, "and I was trying to explain to him that maybe three-fifteen in the morning isn't exactly the best time for a heart to heart chat."

Luca paused, considering Derek through bleary eyes and glasses. Then he said, "Well, it's not like Mom's actually sleeping or anything – I don't see what harm it could do to let them talk a while."

Christina pursed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. The dogs picked up on her not-so-subtle body language and started growling again. Derek held his hands up in surrender, and they backed off. She looked him up and down, then said, "Okay, fine – but you only get half an hour. Because that's when she needs her next round of meds, and she gets pissed off if people see her taking her pills. Something about pity and blah blah – I stopped listening when she started sounding like she was spouting conspiracy theories about, y'know, people stealing her pain pills to start a black market or something." She stifled a yawn and held the door open for him.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Only that he needed answers.


	8. Chapter 8

Part eight:

Penelope heard the doorbell and the dogs barking, but she didn't even attempt to get out of bed. She just didn't care that much – and who the hell would be ringing the doorbell at 3 in the morning anyway? Whoever it was could just turn right around and go home. Appropriate hours existed in the realm of 10am-5pm, Monday through Friday, and screw the rest.

She was just lying in bed, watching a movie. She couldn't read or knit – her arm hurt too much to move. She didn't want to do anything. The bed was too big and too empty. She couldn't sleep – she'd already tried.

So, despite the time, she was actually borderline thrilled when Christina knocked on the door and called, "Mama?"

"Yeah," Penelope said, sitting up and trying to rearrange her nightgown so she wasn't spilling out all over the place.

Christina opened the door and said, "Mr. Morgan is here – I tried to talk him into coming back later, but he's pretty insistent."

Penelope sighed. Not a good sign. Derek at quarter after three in the morning? It had to be something important. And in their case, important could be any number of things – including things that were totally inconsequential now. "Okay, but help me put on my robe, please," she murmured. "He does not need to see me like this."

"You need to take your pills soon," Christina said, coming over and helping gently raise her mother's arm so she could slide on the robe.

"Believe me, I know," Penelope muttered, struggling to tie the sash. She flinched and her lips tightened into a thin line as she breathed quickly and shallowly through her nose, but she forced her fingers to work the knot. "How bad is my hair?"

"Mama, I don't think he's going to care how your hair looks," Christina said softly.

"Maybe not, but I do," Penelope whispered. "I always used to be perfect – when did I turn into such a damn mess?" She climbed back into bed and collapsed against the pillows, exhausted with the simple effort of getting dressed. Everything made her tired – that was why she'd gone to the doctor in the first place. And then he'd run so many tests and they all came back –

"Are you sure you want to see him now?" Christina asked, her voice heavy with worry.

"He's probably going home tomorrow," Penelope said. "So what choice do I have?"

"I can send him away – I don't want you to –"

"Chrissy, bring him in and go back to bed," Penelope instructed. "I can show him out when we're finished. Stop worrying so much – I'm not an invalid… yet."

Christina bit her lip and left. A couple of minutes later, Penelope felt him watching her from the doorway. She opened her eyes and smiled a little. "I remember a few other times you woke me up at 3 am," she commented wryly.

"You were usually wearing less," Derek said. He took a deep breath and said, "Can I come in and close the door?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead. I –"

He barely closed the door before he held up a hand to cut her off. "How could you?" His voice was low, sad, broken – all the emotions in the world were packed into those three words, and he couldn't even look at her. "Penelope – how could you?" he repeated.

"How could I what?" she asked. She could think off-hand of at least five things that he could be referring to – but only one really stuck out like a sore thumb. And it gripped her heart with icy panic. He knew – he knew and he was finally going to make her atone…

He crossed the room in three masterful strides, still commanding and demanding respect. "How could you not tell me you had cancer – TWICE?" he demanded, reaching into his jacket's breast pocket and throwing down three snapshots. "I – I can understand not telling me about Christina. I don't like it, but I understand. But this? Did you really hate me so much that you couldn't tell me that you were so close to death's door TWICE?"

She picked up the photos and turned them over, reading the inscription on the back. The ice melted and became fire – how the hell - "Where did you get these?" Penelope demanded furiously. "These are Dave's – did you – oh my god, I can't believe you'd actually go through his things while you were in MY house!" She stared at him, face flushed, fury rising. HOW DARE HE TOUCH DAVE'S THINGS –

"Do you really think so little of me?" he hissed. "He gave them to me, Penelope. All of his special pictures of you and MY daughter. And, yeah, before you blame anyone else? He told me that, too. Your husband had a guilty conscience, Mrs. Rossi – even if you don't."

Of course she had a guilty conscience! God, every day, she prayed for him, still – and Dave had never been happy that when she had nightmares, she always called out for Derek, not him. She still loved Derek in a way that even she couldn't define; and with him standing so closely, she could smell his cologne, the essence of him that she'd always been drawn to like a moth to a flame… And god DAMN it, she wished she could stop it.

"Say something, damn it," Derek spat.

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes and trying to find the words. "I… I didn't think – I didn't think you'd care," she whispered, her voice cracking. "After the wedding, after I pushed you away, why would you care about me?"

"I fucking loved you, Penelope," he whispered. "How could I not still care? I mean, hell, I still hate myself every day I think about how happy you are."

She laughed, the sound low and hollow. "Happy," she echoed.

"You at least had him," he reasoned.

"I did," she agreed, the words barely more than a whisper. "But not anymore, and it's my fault."

Derek frowned, grabbing the chair from by the bookcase and pulling it over. "How is it your fault?" he asked. "You didn't pump him full of germs."

"No, but he went to the cabin in the middle of the ice storm," she muttered, "and that's my fault. He had to get away because he was so pissed at me that he couldn't even –" She looked up at Derek, horrified to see worry and compassion on her face instead of anger. She wanted him to be mad at her – hell, she fucking deserved it. She was mad at herself, she was mad at Dave; fuck, she was pissed at the world and she was going to grit her teeth stubbornly and punish herself for all of her sins.

She had so many of them.

It took a moment to steady herself and force the words to come out. "The cancer is back."

"Your kids know?" Derek asked.

She nodded and sighed. "Christina doesn't want to leave my side and – and Luca – it's hurting him more than he'll ever admit." She shook her head and said, "I never told you because I didn't want your pity. I didn't want you to want to make nice because I was sick. I wanted us to be friends because we wanted to be – not because I was dying. And I know that's selfish and stupid, but –"

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands. "I love you," he said very quietly. "No matter what. Do you understand that? It's never going to stop, Penelope. Even when I'm pissed as hell at you – even tonight, when I found out that you've kept Christina from me. I can live with that. But I can't live with the thought of losing you, too. I can't understand why you wouldn't just tell me that you were sick." He put his hand over his heart. "You never left here, Baby Girl. Not ever. And, yeah, I hate the shit you've pulled, but I love you so much it hurts. Okay? And I need you to know that you can tell me anything. Anything."

"Anything?" she whispered. He nodded. She hesitated, then murmured, "I decided not to pursue treatment this time. That's why Dave and I fought and he left and – I just… I can't. I can't live through that again, Derek. Not alone."

She watched the emotions rage across his face – shock, then anger, then confusion, then resignation. And then nothing at all, like a mask had slipped back on, covering up his emotions. "I think the first thing you need to do is get a second opinion," he said. "Make sure that it's not something less serious."

She nodded stiffly. "Christina set up an appointment next week with one of her professors," she said. "But until then, I'm on strong painkillers every three hours." She glanced at the bedside table and sighed when she saw the clock. "Speaking of, it's time to dose up again."

He was immediately up and grabbing her glass to get her some water from the bathroom. She watched him with a kind of bemused horror as he read the label on the bottle and tipped out two pills for her. She reached for the glass and the pills, and gasped with pain.

"No, don't," he said softly. "Just tilt your chin back." He tossed the pills down her throat and held the glass of water to her lips. She sipped it, swallowing hard, then sucked down the rest of the glass greedily. When it was gone, he set it aside and kissed her forehead. "Don't say anything – just listen," he said. "Okay? You're not alone in this. And I don't want you to think that I'm just going to walk away tonight and leave you to figure out what's going on. We need to – I need – we need – Baby Girl… don't push me away. Whatever you decide to do, I want to know so I can help. I want to be here for you, no matter what. Okay?"

She was crying, big fat tears that scalded her skin and made her feel even worse. "Okay," she whispered. "But you shouldn't –"

He laid his finger on her lips. "I have a lot to make up for," Derek whispered. "And all I can say is that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

So was she – god, so was she.


	9. Chapter 9

Part nine:

The flight into Chicago was turbulent. It had been a weird winter and random eddies of snow and ice were still blowing out of Canada, out to the Atlantic coast – and it was nearly March. Penelope was fairly certain that if she didn't die from the cancer, she'd die from the cold – her joints weren't what they used to be. So she'd packed a heavy coat, just in case.

All of her preparation hadn't prepared her for the turbulence – or sharing the seat row with an overly enthusiastic, flirty businessman with halitosis and no ability to understand the phrase, "Don't touch me!"

As she staggered off the plane with her coat and carry-on bag, she decided that if she was going to have to travel more in her last few months, she was going to splurge and buy a fucking private jet. The kids could sell it off when she died. Anything to get away from the crazy people.

She got to the hotel and checked in, glad to be able to make someone else take her bags. The valet was kind and attentive, making sure she was unpacked and ready for the rest of her stay before he left. His tip was definitely much more than Dave would've given him – she knew enough to know her limits, and the young man had performed above and beyond her expectations.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. She had finally settled into a routine after everyone went home from the funeral. And she fended for herself with very little help – which surprised her. It just took effort and gritting her teeth through the pain, reminding herself that it wasn't going to last forever. In fact, if she had her way, it would be sooner rather than later.

The house was too big and empty without her husband. Luca was there, but still – it just wasn't the same. It was too much for one person to handle. Mansions weren't meant for a fairly solitary existence, especially when you couldn't scrub your own damn toilet easily. If she wasn't invested in preserving the house for the kids, she would already have looked into selling it. But her best memories were all there – family meals and birthday parties and making love in front of the fireplace…

Penelope sighed and closed her eyes, laying back on the pillows. She only meant to take a quick nap, but the next thing she knew, her phone alarm was screaming for her to get up and take her pills. She got up robotically and took them, knowing that she'd already built up a tolerance to them – or that the breakthrough pain really was that bad. Either way, she was grinding her teeth down, day by day.

She paced around the suite, feeling a little bit like a caged animal. She had nowhere to be till the next day, and she didn't want to bother Christina. It wasn't fair to put her out just because she was in town for an appointment. And tests. And… a few days of hell waiting for the results of the tests. And the inevitable –

She'd already updated her will with Hotch, making allowances for everything she'd just inherited from her husband and everything that she'd never gotten around to. She wanted to be prepared for the worst possible news from the doctors – and Penelope already knew that the news couldn't possibly be good. She just knew.

She glanced at the clock. Noon. Well, okay, then. No pressure or anything to find something to do for the rest of the day. She was sick do death of doing nothing. She'd been happy to retire early when Dave was all, "We can spend our days together and be as naughty as we like," but now that she was on her own, all she did was read erotica on a tablet and pray that the cancer took her before she could sink her claws into some of these idiot writers.

She hesitated a moment, then reached for her phone. She dialed the number Derek had programmed into her contacts and waited. It wasn't long before she was rewarded with a sleepy mumble of, "If this is Principal Haskins, I know that my kid's a pain in the ass. If not, call back in a couple hours."

Penelope chuckled. "Sounds like you're having a bad day, Morgan," she murmured.

He immediately sounded more alert, and slightly surprised. "Penelope?"

"Yeah, it's me," she said with a tiny smile. "Sorry I haven't called – I had some things to take care of. How are you and the kids?"

"Well, I'm just coming off six months of the night shift," he replied with a weary sigh, "and I've got three days off to switch my internal clock back to days – it's not going very well."

"I can imagine not," she said, wincing a little. "I… I don't even know where you're working."

"I'm with the CPD," he said, yawning. "So – how are you?"

"That's a loaded question," she replied. "My appointment is tomorrow – they'll do an initial scan, then biopsies, blood tests, and everything else that needs doing. It could stretch out over a couple of days, so I just planned for two weeks."

He yawned again and groaned. "I'm sorry – I'm –"

"No, no, it's lunchtime on a Tuesday – I should've thought before I called," she said. "I can call back later."

"No, I'm up," he said. The toilet flushed in the background, and she stifled a chuckle. "You worried about tomorrow?"

"Not really," she lied. "I just want it all to be over with so I know what I'm dealing with and how quickly it's going to be over."

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, you might not be worried – but I am."

She blushed a little. "So, um, since I woke you up and all – would you like to meet me somewhere for lunch or something? I mean, I'm in town for a while, so…"

He chuckled. "Well, we should probably hash some things out, shouldn't we?" he asked. "Why not? Where are you staying? With Christina?"

She hesitated a moment, then said, "Um, actually, I'm staying at the Drake."

There was a beat of silence. "Seriously? You have family in town and you're staying in a six-star hotel instead?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes, well, I didn't want to disrupt Chrissy's routine," Penelope said. "And it's always better when we have plenty of room apart to decompress. Too much time together can get a little hinky. She knows I'm here, though, and we're having dinner tomorrow –"

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "Well, okay, be waiting for me at the ground pickup area in about an hour, okay? The kids are having dinner with their grandparents tonight – like they do every Tuesday night, don't think I'm sending them off or something because you're here – so I'm going to take you out for a night on the town."

Penelope chuckled. "Just like old times, then?"

"Hey, if we have to make nice, there better at least be good food and not all that foofy French shit you love so much," he teased.

"Oh lord," she laughed.

"Hey, I know this much about you – Dave got you to at least eat a little meat. So lunch is definitely going to be something iconic – a hella good Chicago dog."

"Oh, honey, my heartburn –"

He laughed. "Yours and mine, both. When did we get old, Penelope?"

"A while ago," she murmured. "But that's the way of life, isn't it?"

"Meet me in an hour," he reminded her.

"Of course," she said. "I'll be there."

* * *

The valet looked concerned as he held open the door to Derek's beat-up old SUV. "Mrs. Rossi, are you sure you don't want me to call you a –"

Penelope smiled at the young man and passed him a $20 bill. "Thank you, but no – if anyone calls for me, please hold the messages at the front desk and I'll collect them when I return," she said. She hopped up into the SUV and smiled over at him. "I think we're going to be the talk of the hotel today."

"Why?" he asked, throwing it into gear and heading out.

"I get the feeling they aren't used to classic cars," she teased, making sure her seatbelt was fastened – if Derek was with the CPD, there was no way his driving skills had improved. In fact, it was a distinct probability that they had devolved into something horrific. In which case, she probably should be holding onto the 'oh shit' handle, as well.

"Are you nervous driving with me?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"No," she lied.

"Liar," he accused.

"Okay, I remember very well how you drive – like a maniac," she shot back, laughing nervously.

"Baby Girl, I swear – you've gotten boring in your old age," he teased, grinning.

"I have," she agreed, "but your driving has always scared me. Especially after New York." The tiny confession from so damn long ago didn't make her feel better: it made her feel worse.

His brow furrowed and he glanced over at her. "Penelope –"

"I broke my promise," she said. "To not stop talking to you."

"Baby Girl," he sighed, "life happened. It's okay."

"Not to me," she murmured, looking out the window as the buildings went by.

They drove in silence till he pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine. "Penelope, if we're going to be friends, we need to lay down some ground rules," he said, turning to face her. "Number one? The past is past and we can't change it. But we can be honest with each other now, right?" She nodded. "Number two – what the hell coat are you wearing? It looks like some animal died for you to wear it –"

"It's fake fur trim," she said indignantly. "And I'm cold."

He laughed and waggled his eyebrows. "I can think of a couple of ways to change that."

She glanced away, blushing, ashamed that – to be brutally honest – she'd already thought of all of those ways, and a couple more. But she wasn't about to do anything to break their fragile trust. Or betray Dave's memory. Her heart clenched and she had to fight back the tears. WHY did she have to love two men, and each so deeply – and all at the same time? God, she wished she could go back to the day that she'd sat waiting for him to call her back and apologize for even thinking of ending them. She would tell her younger self to call him – call him, yell at him, scream at him, tell him that she was pregnant, MAKE THEM WORK.

She couldn't – just like she couldn't just build a new life right now when she was so close to the end. It wasn't fair to anyone.

But when he came around the car and opened the door, offering her his hand, she took it and gladly.


	10. Chapter 10

Part ten:

It had been a good day – quiet, just walking around and talking and eating things here and there. They'd wandered around Lincoln Park till it got too cold for her, then they'd gone to a mall and he'd treated her to the best ice cream sundae she'd ever had in her life.

She'd taken her meds at the appropriate times and he watched her like a hawk as she did. Only once had he asked her a question about how she was feeling – and that was when she'd been jostled in a crowd. He'd been attentive and careful, checking her for any lingering damage beyond the frown on her lips.

They ate a quiet dinner in a little restaurant and talked like calm, rational adults about Christina and everything that had happened since they'd split up. He talked about meeting Terri and getting married and being scared shitless when Wanda was born. She told him about "dating" Dave and how they came to stumble into marriage. He had laughed about the team coming back from a case and finding her about to give birth in her office because she'd been too scared to go to the hospital by herself – despite having her bag packed and right there in the office. In retrospect, it was hysterical, but at the time, she'd been terrified.

She'd started getting droopy and worn out by the time dinner was over, so he bundled her up in the car, turned the heater up, and drove. She nodded off, but startled awake when the car stopped. "Where are we?" Penelope mumbled.

"Home sweet home," Derek replied cheerfully.

She looked out the window at the house. It seemed nice enough – small, a little shabby, but nice enough – two stories with white siding and black shutters, a two-car garage, his beat-up old SUV on the left side of the driveway and a white sedan on the right (the sedan having a very large dent in the back bumper), and so on. Typical suburban landscape with a typical suburban family.

But she felt badly that it wasn't just a little bit nicer – Derek and his family deserved nice things, too. She internally slapped herself for looking down her nose at the little house, and had a sudden flash of what life would've been like if it had been the two of them together. Probably exactly the same as it was here and now.

"Come on," he said, "let's go inside and have dessert – I've got some cookie dough in the fridge."

She laughed and let him lead her out of the car and up the walk to the front door. As soon as the key was in the lock, she heard a large, deep bark. Derek opened the door and she almost fainted – that dog was enormous! The top of its head came well past her waist and almost to her breastbone. "Down, girl," Derek scolded softly when the huge dog moved toward Penelope. "C'mere, Munchkin," he insisted. The dog barked and moved toward him, brushing against him and almost knocking him down. "Okay, okay – you wanna go outside, girl? C'mon – outside time."

Once the dog was outside, he came back and helped her out of her coat. "Sorry about Munchkin," he said. "I forget how unnerving she can be."

"She's just so big!" Penelope said.

"Yeah, she's a Burmese Mountain Dog," Derek said. "She was abused as a puppy and was rescued and I fell in love with her cute little face." He grinned at her. "I promise, that dog won't bite you – she knows better."

"I'm not worried about that," Penelope admitted. "I'm more worried she's going to knock me down and smother me with love."

He laughed. "You should see her wrestle with Mick." Derek paused a second, then said, "Do you want to come with me while I make the cookies, or would you rather sit down and rest?"

"Can't I do both?" she asked. "I can sit and watch you make cookies."

He smiled and said, "Well, then – here's the penny tour. The kitchen is over here." They walked in comfortable silence and she pulled up a chair from the dinette set while he rooted around for a cookie sheet.

She glanced around, taking in the sparse décor – the dinette was pretty straightforward, just cherry wood and glass, the pots and pans were hanging from ceiling racks over the kitchen island, and dishes and glasses were in glass-fronted cherry cabinets. It looked like every suburban kitchen in America, and she felt suddenly guilty for being so proud of her marble countertops and Royal Dalton collections.

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," Derek commented as he broke apart chunks of cookie dough. "You okay?"

She nodded and murmured, "Just… feeling out of place."

"How so?" he asked, brow furrowing in concentration and concern as he filled the baking tray.

"Well, this is your home," Penelope tried to explain, "and it's wonderful. And I'm sitting here, feeling guilty because I have nice things in my home and you have nice things, but not – god, I'm not explaining this very well…"

"You feel guilty because you can feel that the chair you're sitting on needs a new leg," he said, "and the cabinets need refinishing and we have plastic cups instead of crystal. Right?"

She sighed. "But it's not like – damn it – it's not like that. I'm just used to –"

"Penelope, it's okay," he assured her. "I'm content with what we have. I work hard for my paychecks, and everything we have is practical because it has to be. Well, except for the tv in my room. That's just because I could."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

He smirked over at her as he threw the baking tray in the oven. "Don't beat yourself up over it – not all of us can sip champagne from satin slippers," he teased. "We do just fine. But the check your husband gave me will definitely be going toward remodeling the kids' bathroom and doing some landscaping in the front yard – after I put most of it into the kids' college funds."

"Listen, if you ever need –"

"Penelope," Derek said, his voice low and soft, "you can't just throw money at me because you feel guilty about my house lookin' a little ghetto. I'm a single dad with two teenagers and a dog that eat me out of house and home – my house and my cars are gonna be just a teeny bit ghetto."

"Yes, but –"

"And you can't throw money at me because you feel guilty about Christina," he said firmly. He leaned against the counter and sighed. "Okay? We already talked about this."

"Yes," she murmured. Her phone started beeping and she groaned. "It's pill time –"

He got down a plastic glass with the Batman logo on it and filled it up with iced tea from a jug in the fridge. "You need any help with –"

"Have I needed any help today?" she snapped. By the time the words left her mouth and her brain caught up with them, he was staring at her. "God – Derek, I'm sorry, I didn't –"

He held up his hand. "Stop apologizing," he said. "You have nothing to apologize for right now."

"But I –"

"Take your pills," he said. The timer beeped and he got the cookies out of the oven. By the time he turned around, her pills were down the hatch, as was half the glass of tea. He took off the hot mitts and took the three steps to reach her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I know you're hurting," he said, "and it's getting harder to hide it. You don't have to hide it from me."

"I don't want to be a burden," Penelope sighed, suddenly feeling very nervous – she was revealing a truth she hadn't wanted to share. "To you or to anyone. It's not that I don't want to cry because it hurts like hell," she whispered, "but I don't want you to worry because I'm in pain. You have so many other things to worry about."

"Now you just stop it right there," Derek said in a firm tone that booked no argument. "You are not a burden, Penelope. You are a strong, capable woman – too strong, maybe. And if you need to cry, you better cry. If you want to yell and scream and curse God for letting cancer get the better of you, you can do it. You're safe here and I'm not going to judge you. Okay?"

He was kneeling in front of her, looking so damn earnest and frightened and worried and – and she just crumbled. What strength she had left disappeared in a heartbeat and she lost her shit. She cried so hard she didn't know how she could still be breathing; and he just held her hand and held her as she wept.

"I'm a horrible person," she choked out. "That's why God's punishing me – that's why – it has to be why."

"Oh, sweetheart," Derek sighed. "You aren't horrible –"

"I kept Christina from you," she blubbered. "I pissed my husband off and he got sick and died. I had to sit next to a guy with bad breath on the plane and all I could think about when I got off the plane was that I should buy a jet! I was thinking horrible, awful things about your house because I'm a snob – I'm a bad person, Derek, and when I die, I'm not going to see Dave – I'm going straight to hell!" Her voice gave way to a miserable wail that he did his best to muffle against his shoulder.

She cried until she couldn't cry anymore, and then she just felt… small. Hollow. Tired.

When she pulled away from him and started trying to wipe her nose and eyes – because nothing said damsel in distress like a fucking snotty nose – Derek took her glasses off and gently used the pads of his thumbs to wipe her tears away. "There we go," he whispered, "good as new." He set her glasses back on her nose and waved a little. "Hi, Baby Girl – I was wondering where you went in that tough girl exterior. Welcome back."

She didn't know what he meant – had she really changed that much? Oh – oh god, she'd really screwed the pooch on this one… She'd been so wrapped up in everything that she'd forgotten what it was like to just let go and feel free.

On impulse, she grabbed his hand and pulled him close.

Before she could stop herself, she kissed him.

He tasted like hope and home and everything good in the world – everything she wanted and couldn't, shouldn't, have. All the things that she would have fought for if she had any fight left.

She pulled away and whispered, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

He shook his head, hurt in his eyes, but it disappeared in a flash. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her like she had never been kissed in her life. All the pain and longing and every emotion they'd ever shared was in that kiss – and she didn't want to fight it.

She wanted to drink it up greedily and beg for more.


	11. Chapter 11

Part eleven:

He wasn't as strong as he used to be, but he carried her up the stairs into his bedroom without flinching or breathing too heavily. Derek kissed her very gently as he set her down and said, "Okay, so – let me clean up a little or –"

Penelope smiled and shook her head. "I don't care if you have underwear on the floor or if the bed isn't made," she murmured.

"I wasn't expecting company when you woke me up," he said, running around quickly and picking things up while she watched with amusement. His bed was smaller than she might have expected – just a full size – and covered in simple black sheets, white blankets, and a plaid comforter in shades of black, white, and red. He didn't have a headboard, so the bed was butted right up against the wall. He had one bedside table with reading glasses, a book, an alarm clock and a lamp on it, but the true star of the room was the huge flat panel television on the wall opposite the bed, sitting between the two windows. He stopped kicking things under the bed and sighed. "Shit – I guess all that killed what mood we had going, didn't it?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I told you I don't care what your room looks like," she said softly. "I'm not here for the room – I'm here because I love you, stupid."

He exhaled shakily, nervously – since when was Derek Morgan nervous about having a girl in his bedroom? – and said, "I can tell you things will be better if we get back together, but it would be a lie, wouldn't it? You're still sick, I'm still over my head with the kids and work and the mortgage –"

She came over and gave him a lingering, delicious kiss that made her shiver. "I could tell you that I've always loved you – which is true – and that this wouldn't affect anything – which is a lie," she whispered. "Because I just… I want to be happy while I'm here. And we're… starting over, aren't we?" She leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes. "We've both made mistakes, haven't we? I don't think this is, though."

He looked at her with such naked longing that she reached out to stroke his cheek. "I'm probably supposed to feel guilty," she said, "but I don't. So shut up and kiss me."

* * *

Her phone alarm blared, demanding attention. She blinked awake, feeling deliciously warm and comfortable, with Derek's breath hot in her face. They were still tangled together and it took a little work to get free. She shut off the alarm and looked around for her clothes in the dark. She found her panties and bra, but heaven only knows where the rest had gone. She put her glasses on and managed to find a t-shirt that Derek had missed kicking under the bed, tugging it on and inhaling his scent deeply. She went into the hallway and crept downstairs in the dark to find her purse in the kitchen.

Munchkin got up from her bed by the front door and waffled softly before she nudged Penelope. "Hi, there," Penelope whispered. "Shhh – don't wake anyone up, okay?" The dog followed her obediently into the kitchen and Penelope took her pills quickly before she looked around for a treat for the dog. She finally found the box of treats on top of the fridge and she took one of the large bone-shaped biscuits out. Munchkin's tail wagged with enthusiasm and she came up and almost knocked Penelope down with her eagerness to get at the treat. "Oh, goodness!" Penelope laughed softly as the dog's front paws went over her shoulders and down her back and she got a hot face full of happy doggy drool. "Okay, okay – SIT," she said firmly. The dog backed off and sat down, looking mollified. "Good girl – here you go," Penelope murmured, giving her the treat and rubbing her behind the ears. "Good girl," she assured the dog.

Penelope thought briefly that maybe she should catch a cab and go back to the hotel before the kids realized she was there. Oh lord – what on earth would they think?

She ended up not really caring much because the linoleum floor was damn cold and so was she. She raced back up the stairs and dove back into bed with him. "Hey," he mumbled, "where'd you go?"

"Pills," she whispered.

"Mmm," he acknowledged tiredly. "Did the kids let Munchkin in?"

"Mmmhmm," Penelope replied, curling up in his arms and closing her eyes. She missed sleeping with someone – curled up and comfortable, warm and intimate, needed and wanted. And Derek was entirely too enthusiastic about keeping her tucked up close. His hand roamed over her lower back, settling on her ass, pulling her hips flush against his.

"Love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

"Love you, too," she murmured, going back to sleep.

She woke up soaked in icy sweat, a horrified cry on her lips. Derek was there, holding her, whispering that it was okay – it was all right… It had been so long since she'd had a nightmare that she'd forgotten how disturbing they were. She was shaking and holding him like she was afraid he wasn't real. Maybe he wasn't – maybe –

"No, no, don't," he whispered when she tried to push him away. "It's okay, Baby Girl… it's okay, really. I promise."

Her only response was to kiss him, begging him to take it all away for a moment. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, desperate and full of things they'd both been denied for so long. Their coupling was rough, quick, and took her breath away.

She should feel guilty – Dave had only been dead for 12 days, and she was fucking Derek Morgan like a cat in heat. But she didn't feel plagued with guilt. She loved him desperately – how could it be wrong now? She was finally telling herself the truth: that as much as she'd loved Dave, Derek was the one that made her whole again.

But how could he really love her now? After all that she'd done, she was hard-pressed to even like herself. Her life was a litany of choices that she'd made under duress, and this was the only choice that felt right. Being with him felt… she couldn't even describe it. But she knew he was holding back things that he wanted to say because she was sick and probably dying and he didn't want to hurt her more. She wanted the truth, though – how could he love her?

The idea of him nursing her through the cancer treatments made her feel sick – he deserved so much better than her. She would only hold him back. She didn't want to –

"Derek, I should go back to the hotel," she whispered in the dark. "I – I shouldn't have – I shouldn't have just disrupted your day like I did and I –"

"What are you babbling about?" he mumbled. "Close your eyes and sleep."

"No, don't you dare mollycoddle me and tell me to go back to sleep," she said firmly, getting up and turning on the light. She found her underwear tangled in the sheets and yanked it on before she moved around the room, coming up with other articles of clothing till she was dressed and looking for her boots. "I need to go back to the hotel – this was…" She stopped herself from saying it was a mistake. "This is wrong, Derek."

"You're the one that fucking told me that it wasn't wrong!" he yelped, getting out of bed and grabbing her by the shoulders. She winced and he pulled back. "Damn it, Penelope –"

"Stop," she pleaded. "Don't try to make me feel better. Please. Just – just take me back to the hotel."

"No," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "You're going to fucking tell me how you just do that – do a total about-face because you think you're better than me. Just fucking tell me why you're here; tell me why you're in my bed and then we'll decide together if it's as bad as you think."

"No," she denied. "I have to go. My appointment is in five hours. Please just take me back to the hotel." _Please don't ask me to tell you how much this is killing me_ –

He finally went to the dresser and grabbed clothes. He dressed without a word, but as soon as he'd pulled his sweater on, he muttered, "Fine. But we're talking about this tonight –"

"I'm having dinner with Christina."

"Oh, no," he said, looking over at her with a mixture of predatory anger and lust in his gaze, "we are going to talk about this tonight. Preferably as we're fucking somewhere in that overpriced room of yours, but I'm open to other suggestions – like over a bottle of champagne as we sit in the tub after we've gone a couple rounds…"

"Derek – this was a mistake," she said, her voice low and quiet. "God knows I've made enough of them in my life to know when one's smacked me between the eyes. I kissed you because I was feeling nostalgic and lonely. And the sex – the sex was just an extension of that."

He took two purposeful steps and grabbed her chin. "Don't lie to me," he hissed. "Don't you ever fucking lie to me again, Penelope. You've done enough of that, don't you think?"

She declined to favor him with an answer, though she was inwardly screaming, _YES, GOD YES, I HAVE_!

He shook his head angrily and said, "Get your shit and we'll go."

* * *

"So," Christina said, setting down bowls of soup on the table, "how did it go?"

"We did the body scan today and they took about half of the blood they need," Penelope said, tucking into the soup. She hadn't eaten all day and she was dying for something heavier than soup. Oh well – that's what room service is for, right? "Tomorrow, they'll take more blood and do more localized scans."

"Right," Christina said, "but how did it go?"

Penelope sighed. "Not very well."

Christina fell silent. Dinner was awkwardly quiet, and Penelope didn't really feel like piping up and saying much because that sad look on her daughter's face would only magnify. Once they were done, she called a cab and rode back to the hotel.

She didn't want to tell her daughter that in the 6 weeks since her diagnosis, the cancer had spread. In May, she had been fine. In February, she was dying. It was a harsh, painful kick to the gut. Dr. Wilton had already advised that they remove her breast implants and scrape what tumors they could from her ribcage and what breast tissue she had left, but she'd been stubborn and said she'd wait for the final results.

She'd ignored all of Derek's texts and voicemails and the messages at the front desk, and was content with just taking a long bath and going to bed. Anything to feel normal and not miserable.

She was just finished toweling off when her phone rang for what seemed the thousandth time – and she finally picked it up. "Hello," she said, her voice devoid of everything.

"I thought you'd gone and jumped off the Sears Tower or something," Derek said, his tone beyond anxious. "Why didn't you call or text or something –"

"Because I don't owe you an explanation for anything," she huffed. "I had a miserable, shitty day and a bullshit dinner and I'm tired and frustrated and I have to do it again tomorrow because one day of misery isn't enough! No, let's suck her dry of blood and send her through another machine that will tell everyone that, yes, I have fucking stage four breast cancer and even if I did start treatment right now, I only have a tiny shot of living more than a few months!" She hung up the phone and threw it across the room, feeling sick to her stomach. _You told him and now he's going to try to talk you out of doing something 'stupid'. He's going to hurt himself to hold onto you and it's not fair to him. Not after everything you've done, Penelope. Just walk away. Run. Run away. Run like hell. Don't give in and don't let him see that if he just – if he loved you just so very much – if he loved you anywhere near as much as you love him – you would do anything to stay here with him. Never show him that._

Her dark and dismal thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She got up and moved toward it, unsurprised to see him standing there. But she was surprised by the massive bouquet of roses in his arms. Red roses – dark, almost burgundy, roses, each one perfect.

"I'm sorry you had such a bad day," Derek said very softly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you last night. I'm sorry, Baby Girl, for everything."

Her hand flew to her lips and she closed her eyes. _Don't show him – don't show him any sign of weakness or -_ She opened her eyes and he was still there, waiting for her to say something. "Oh, Derek," she whispered.

"Can I come in or…"

She nodded and let him walk past her to find a vase for the bounty of flowers. "You didn't have to –"

"I get that you're scared and upset," he said, "especially now. But I'm not just going to let you push me away, Penelope." He came out of the bathroom after finally dropping the roses into the second sink when he couldn't find a vase. "Okay? I don't want you to die, but if you've decided that you really don't want to even try… the least I can do is be here to support you. Because I love you and that's not going to go away."

"I love you, too," she echoed softly, feeling her heart beating faster as he leaned in and kissed her gently. "I just don't want –"

"Stop it," he whispered. "Just stop. I'm a big boy. I know that you're trying to be noble and spare everyone the pain of seeing you go downhill. I get it. But you need to know that I don't fucking care. So, whatever your decision, I will stand by you and support you, and god, Penelope, I will love you."

Her words deserted her, and all she had left was a tiny voice in her head telling her that if she only had a short time left, shouldn't she fight back so she could spend it with him?

The tiny voice was getting louder.


	12. Chapter 12

Part twelve:

Christina didn't mean to run her mother off – just… it was weird. Mama was usually so talkative and full of energy, and there wasn't any of that at dinner. And then she just got up and bolted. It was enough to make her worry that things were worse than her mother had let on. Which was probably the case.

She sighed and spread her books out again, trying her best to get ready for her Advanced Physiology quiz in the morning. She was already tired of skeletal disorders. She wanted to move on to the parts that mattered – carcinomas and disgusting parasitic diseases and…

Before she knew it, she was most of the way through a bottle of wine – and she was no closer to understanding scoliosis than she had been an hour before. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, sighing. "Ugh," she muttered.

The doorbell rang, and she jumped about ten feet straight in the air, sloshing wine over the edge of her glass and all over her books. "Shit," she muttered, looking at the clock. Maybe Mama was coming back to talk? "I'll be right there!" she yelled, wiping up the splash of wine with the edge of her sweatshirt. What did it matter? It was an old, grungy shirt Jack had left behind – eventually, it was going to the trash anyway.

She bolted for the door as the bell rang through the house again, almost tripping over Sylvester, her black tuxedo cat. "Shoo," she hissed, and the cat took cover in the bookshelf beneath the stairs. She didn't even look out the peephole, just threw the door open. "Hi –"

Her words deserted her completely.

"Hey," Jack said quietly.

Christina just stared at him, eyes wide.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she finally managed to say.

"I… uh, well – they're opening a branch of the gallery here in Chicago, and asked me to supervise the first few installations…"

"No, here, on my doorstep," she said. "I could give a damn what you're doing in town – I want to know why you think you can just show up uninvited to my house –"

"It was my house, too," Jack said.

"Well, you know what? It was my dad's and now it's mine. So, I'll ask you again – what the hell are you doing here?" She crossed her arms defensively over the old, grubby NYU sweatshirt, suddenly worried about her fluffy slippers and Hello Kitty pajama pants. "You have five seconds and then I'm calling the police –"

"I'm worried about you," he finally said. "You didn't look so good at the funeral –"

"Well, yeah, because my dad died," she muttered. "And I'm touched by your concern. Really. But I need you to leave now. Because you can't just show up here and be all 'oh, I'm worried about you' when we've been divorced for a year and a half. It doesn't work that way, Jack. We're not together anymore, okay? And that's all there is to it."

"That's why I'm here," Jack said, his voice low and serious. "I want to talk –"

She was almost shaking with the cold night air and her sudden aversion to talking. "I don't."

"Look, what I did was stupid –"

"You think?" she hissed, the sarcasm rolling off her tongue with a bitterness that she didn't expect.

"Okay, I deserved that –"

"Yeah, you do," she muttered, shifting her weight and glaring at him. "After what you did, you deserve whatever the fuck you get, Jack Hotchner."

He sighed and rubbed his face, looking small and tired, like a little boy. "I did some stupid shit because I was hurting, okay? I got drunk and we fought and I hit you –"

"I know, I was there," she growled. "But the part where you lied to everyone and said that _I _went off the rails? Oh, that's the part where I really, really wanted to take you out."

"Look, you came out looking like roses in the courts –"

"All I wanted was a fast divorce – we didn't really have any money involved, the house wasn't ours, we each had our own cars… Why now?" she asked. "Why the hell do you want to talk about this now, Jack? We were only married for six months, for god's sake –"

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if you hadn't lost the baby?" he asked suddenly.

"No," she said sullenly. "Because there's no point in hypothetical scenarios after the fact. I lost the baby, we got divorced, end of story."

He stared at her for a long moment – so long that she began to shut the door. But then he blurted, "Chrissy, I don't want it to be the end of the story." And she stopped.

"What?" she whispered.

"I made a mistake – a lot of mistakes," he amended. "And I know I can't make up for them, but –"

"No, stop it," she said. "You don't even know what you did, Jack – you destroyed my mother and your father's friendship because of your lies! You hurt me, both physically and emotionally and you just want us to pretend that none of it ever happened?"

"Look, I – maybe this was a mistake," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're so damn stubborn –"

"Yeah, just like I always have been," she replied. "Did you think I'd just bend over and let you walk all over me again? Because you have another thing coming, Jack. I've grown up. I'm not the little girl you used to push around anymore."

"I'm still in love with you," he confessed, looking taken aback that the words had left his lips.

All of her righteous indignation and fury choked her, but the little voice in her head said, _Isn't that what you really wanted? For him to realize what a fucking asshole he's been and come groveling back to you?_ She inhaled sharply and said, "And what if I'm still in love with you? Does that mean we're just going to throw everything to the wind and rush back to where we left off? Because that's not going to happen. You're going out with some girl –"

"I broke it off," Jack interjected. "I saw you at your dad's funeral and I just – you were so upset and had no one to comfort you… because I fucked up."

"You did," she whispered. "You fucked up big time."

"And what if I spent every day of my life trying to make it up to you?" he asked.

"You'd better live a damn long time," she snapped.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked suddenly.

"No," she lied, "I'm pissed. Not exactly the same thing."

"You're shaking –" He took a step toward her and she edged back toward the inside of the house where the air was warm and she had wine and - "Chrissy, I'm sorry," he said. "I know you aren't going to believe me, but… it's the truth. Everything I've said tonight is the truth."

_You wanted this – this whole damn time, all you wanted was for him to come back and sweep you off your feet…_ "Jack –" Her protest was swallowed by his lips on hers, kissing her with all the sweetness he'd ever shown her… the sweetness that had swept her off her feet in the first place. Damn him.

* * *

She rocked her hips against his, taking him deeper inside her, moaning and accepting another hot, greedy kiss from him. Derek's hands roamed over her water-slicked back, finally settling on her ass, copping a feel as she moved with his little thrusts.

The bubblebath was doing some seriously dangerous things to her libido – the sensual fragrances of jasmine, sandalwood and sorrel combined into a heady mix that made Penelope feel deliciously wanton and needy. Ever since he'd shown up with those damn roses, she'd been lost – and when he'd suggested a bath for her, she'd demanded that he join her.

Which is how they came to be fucking in the bathtub, her straddling him with all of the control in the world. Each kiss was delicious, delirious, naughty, each moan or groan an exercise in restraint – or lack thereof. And each thrust created a wave in the tub, making the scent that was driving them wild even stronger.

It was a heady experience, to give and take love so freely after such great sorrow – it was full of benediction and release, a catharsis of a kind. It would be difficult to give him up … but until she had to, she had him in every way she had always wanted him. Heart, mind, body, soul…

He came first, a guttural cry exploding from his lips as her hand slid between them to tease herself into submission. She looked up at him, and let her dirty, dirty mind do the rest. "Mmm," she moaned contentedly, leaning into his shoulder and trying to catch her breath.

"You like the roses, then?" he teased.

She poked him in the ribs. "Shut up about the roses," she whispered, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around him. "If I could, I'd stay here with your forever – but I've already got prune toes. And your ass has to hurt from sitting on that ledge while I just… molested you."

He laughed. "If I wasn't an old fart, I'd show you a thing or two, Mrs. Rossi," he whispered, his voice low and full of promise. "But you're wearing me out – I haven't had this much sex since I was married."

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

Derek sighed. "Yeah, I know, the great Derek Morgan – not having sex."

"How long –"

"Oh, I've had a couple of dates here and there," he said, "and one that led to actual fucking… but that was about five years ago."

"Oh, honey," she said sadly.

"Hey, it's okay – I've got a sock and my hand," he said, holding it up. "Yeah, I'm pruney, too – let's get out of this tub and go cuddle."

"What about the kids?" she asked.

"I tucked them in before I left," he said. "So… don't make a big deal about it."

"I'm not," she murmured.

"I left them alone every night while I was working the night shift," he said.

"I know, but –" She sighed. "Dave and I always tried to be there, either one or both of us, at night in case something happened, y'know? But you're all by yourself with them, so I mean, it's a totally different thing and if they're used to it –"

"Am I going to have to kiss you to get you to stop talking?" he asked, smirking as she stood up and water rushed down her body. He held her there for a moment, his hands steady on her thighs, and he leaned in and placed a kiss on her mons, making her shiver.

"Damn you," she said less than threateningly.

He chuckled and watched her with those lazy, lustful eyes as she climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel. "You know why I didn't date?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Because I'd already had the two most perfect women in the world," he commented dryly. "Why compete with perfection?" He pulled the plug, letting the bathwater escape down the drain.

He stood up and she immediately came over and wrapped a towel low around his hips, smirking as she did. "Nice to know someone thinks I'm perfect," she teased, kissing his chest before she walked away and started drying off. She could feel him watching her and she knew he was taking in all the ways she'd changed since they'd been together – and all the ways she was still the same. And it suddenly hit her between the eyes that she could be oh so happy with him for the rest of her life – if she wanted it. He was offering her open season and she just had to bag him.

She made a decision in that moment, and prayed that it wasn't too late.


	13. Chapter 13

Part thirteen:

Penelope tried not to be nervous as she waited for Derek to join her at the coffee shop. She'd chosen it thinking that, sure, they needed some time together every day now. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably around her coffee cup and she closed her eyes, willing it to stop so she could be normal for just a few damn minutes. It wasn't going to happen; she was too far gone already. The test results she'd gotten back were all ominous, but she was fighting like hell to remain positive.

She looked down into her latte mug and wondered if she should have another cup, since he was running later than he'd thought he'd be – and brushed away the thought that he'd stand her up. He wouldn't. They'd already come too far for that. But he might have second thoughts, and that scared her more than dying. That he could possibly think that it would be preferable to go back to the way things had been rather than to push forward even though she might just lose this battle.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Derek commented with a tired smile as he dropped into the seat opposite her in the booth with a tall glass of some crazy iced coffee and sugar mess – and a plate with two scones on it. Her stomach rumbled; she hadn't really realized she was hungry.

"That good of a day?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it – what about you? How did your tests go?"

"I feel like a human pincushion," she said, smiling a little. "But at least they were willing to be nice and give me Minnie Mouse band-aids. They're my favorites – they make it not so hard to deal with."

He took a long gulp of his coffee, then grinned at her. "Only you, Baby Girl."

"I'm glad you came," she said softly, finishing her coffee and looking longingly at the scones. But the muscles in her right arm were ticking, making her fingers jump, and she didn't want him to know how badly affected she was at the moment. The medicine wasn't working, the muscle relaxants weren't helping, and the pain pills only took the barest edge off of the pain of constant, uncontrollable motion. "I was beginning to worry that you'd changed your mind." She hesitated a moment, then murmured, "About us, I mean."

"Hell no, silly girl," he said with a fond smile. "You want another one?"

He reached for her cup but she didn't let it go – she couldn't. "No, I'm okay," she said very quickly. "You've had a rough day, then?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he reminded her, grabbing one of the scones and pulling it apart. He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed for a moment before he said, "I was thinking we could go out with the kids tomorrow night –"

Penelope said, "I can't. I…" She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm – damn it."

"What do you mean you can't –"

She frowned and opened her eyes. "I'm going to be in the hospital for a few days."

He stared at her. "What? Why?"

She swallowed hard, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. "Because I'm having surgery at lunchtime tomorrow and it's going to take a couple of days of monitoring afterward," she said. "And if that goes according to plan, I'll be starting some new drugs before they give me the radiation treatment in the hopes that it will do less damage." She finally met his worried gaze. "Because I changed my mind."

He was absolutely, deathly silent for almost a minute. She was beginning to worry that she'd made the wrong choice in telling him – but then his hands came around hers and the mug and he said very quietly, "Are you sure? You're not going to take it back when things get bad and say that you made a mistake?"

She nodded. "I'm sure," she whispered. "I mean, it's not a guarantee that things are going to be okay, or that I'm going to get better, but… if it means I get even a few more hours with you, I'd do anything."

"Penelope," he said, "I don't want to say that you've made the right decision, but you've made a good decision."

"Of course, that just means I probably should find an apartment out here or something," she sighed. "Because they'll want to do my treatments here in Chicago, I'm sure and – and it's not fair to you or the kids for me to crash on your couch like a drugged zombie."

"Don't be silly," he said, smiling. Derek let a hint of a smile ghost across his lips, and he said, "Besides, you'll sleep in my bed, not on the couch. World of difference right there."

"It's really sweet of you to think that, but I know what's going to happen," she said softly, "and your kids don't need to see it. My kids didn't need to see it once – let alone three times. I just… don't want you to worry about me. You have other things you need to worry about, like work."

"Penelope, you say I shouldn't be worried about you like if I held my breath, I wouldn't pass out," he scolded soundly. "Never going to happen."

She sighed. "Okay, fine – we'll see what happens, okay? Who knows – I could do the first few treatments here and then go home to finish them. In which case, what are you going to do? I'll hire a home nurse and be done. No big deal."

"Do you want more coffee?" he asked again. "Or something to eat?"

She frowned. "I can't eat anything else now," she said. "I finished my coffee right at the start of fasting time."

"Baby, you should've said something – I wouldn't have just eaten in front of you like that if…"

"Hush," she said firmly. "I'm going to go back to the hotel and rest tonight, okay? No use wearing you out, too. Old bodies aren't made for sex anymore."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, this old body is going to be ready and rarin' to go when I get some of those little blue pills –"

She smiled and replied, "There's more to us than sex."

"Of course you're right," he muttered, "but sex is so much fun." He grinned winningly at her and she rolled her eyes. His hands had never left hers and she knew he could feel the tremors and restlessness in her right hand and arm.

"I love you," she said suddenly. "And I'm doing this because I want as long a time as I can have so I can be with you – because I was stupid. I was so stupid, Derek."

"What's past is past," he reminded her.

"I should have called you and told you I was pregnant," she whispered. "But I was so hurt that you didn't want me anymore – I guess I thought that if I couldn't have you of my own merits, why would you want me just because I was incubating a kid?"

He sighed and frowned. "I have to tell you something, Baby."

"Oh no – that's never good," she said, feeling dread settle into the pit of her stomach. "Please just tell me you don't have cancer or something rare and stupid and –"

"No, nothing like that," he said. "Just that you weren't the only one who was stupid in our relationship." He took a deep breath and his frown deepened. "There was never anyone else. I was just scared that you'd get tired of waiting for me to get my act together and make us work for real instead of long distance and I thought if I let you be free for a while, you'd… I don't know. Maybe you'd come after me because you missed me. But then all of a sudden, I heard through the grapevine that you and Rossi were getting cozy and how the hell do I compare to a man that could buy you anything you wanted. I mean, what was the first thing he gave you when you started dating?"

She laughed, making his frown deeper. "A chocolate milkshake and a car seat."

He stared at her in disbelief. "A car seat," he repeated.

"I couldn't decide which one I wanted to get, so we went to the store and looked at them on lunch, then we went back to the office," she explained. "And then the next day, I had two car seats delivered to my office with a note that said that one was for my car and one for his. Forget diamonds – I was a goner right there. I cried a lot when I was pregnant with Chrissy."

Derek sighed. "Well… I couldn't have topped that," he admitted. "I just sat there and stewed and then all of a sudden, you were getting married and I showed up at the wedding and whatever. The past is past. We were both pretty stupid, weren't we?"

She nodded and whispered, "But as much as I love you, I loved Dave, too – just… differently. Does that make sense?"

"Oh, I know where you're coming from," he said. "But you're going to have to work to get rid of me now. I'm not just going to make stupid choices and do it for you."

"Good," she murmured, "because I'm going out on a limb right now and I'm scared to death of heights."

He pried the mug out of her hands. Before she could protest, he held her hands, squeezing them. "Well, I'm on the ground, waiting to catch you if you fall," he said very quietly. "So you do what you need to do, Baby Girl. You do what you need to do to get better because I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia."

"Only kinda?" she asked, smiling a little.

"More than kinda, but I don't want to scare you off," he teased.

"I'm not going to scare that easily," she replied. "Now, if you ran around naked with nothing but a tea cozy on your head, I'd call the men in white coats and run the other way, but…"

He laughed and squeezed her left hand gently. "Well, I won't be doing that any time soon," he assured her. "But you tell me what you want or need and I will do my damnedest to make it happen."

"Thank you," she murmured, "for everything, okay?"

"Everything?" he questioned.

She nodded. "Everything," she repeated. "Because of reasons."

He chuckled and stood up, leaning over the table and kissing her. "You sure you want to be by yourself tonight?" he asked.

She nodded. "I need to try to sleep. It's going to be a long, hard few days."

"Do you want me to come to the hospital or –"

She shook her head. "I'll be fine," she assured him. "You just worry about those kids and that job of yours, okay? Don't even worry your pretty head about me. I'm a tough broad – and I can call you if things are rotten, right?"

"You better call me if things are bad," he said firmly. "Understand? You call me. Don't get noble and on your damn high horse, okay? The kids can take care of themselves. My job can screw itself. You tell me you need me and I'll be there – I'm not making the same mistake twice."

She kissed him and whispered, "I will call you. If things get that bad, I will call you – I promise. Now go home and walk that dog of yours and kiss your kids, okay?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Absolutely," she murmured. "Some things you just have to face alone. It's okay."

He helped her up and out of the coffee shop. Rather than calling a cab, he put his arm around her and guided her to his car. "You're stuck with me a little longer," he teased.

"Baby, you should go home –"

"Not till I know you're tucked up and resting," he scolded.

She sighed. "Okay, fine, but no funny business," she muttered.

They ended up falling asleep in each others' arms, watching a movie. And woke up every time her alarm went off for her meds. He didn't leave her side till he'd dropped her off at the hospital and made sure that she was ready. She wasn't ready to let him see the misery that was going to come, but she was ready to give everything in order to try to secure that future she saw off in the distance.

"I love you," she breathed against his lips, hoping he understood everything she couldn't say.


	14. Chapter 14

Part fourteen:

"Is that better?" Christina asked softly, sitting back down beside Penelope's hospital bed. "You've got a little more line on the IV – it shouldn't pull now."

Penelope nodded and closed her eyes. "I knew it would hurt – but not like this," she mumbled. "So… you were saying Jack just randomly showed up on your doorstep and –"

"And tried to make nice," Christina said. "He pretty much made me feel just like he used to and – so… he wants to give us another try."

"Please tell me you're not that gullible," Penelope whispered.

"Mama, I still love him –"

"And he loves your money," Penelope said. "Money does strange things to people."

"Yeah, well, look at you and Dad –"

Penelope sighed. "Your father and I didn't care about the money. It was just there. It bought nice things for the family – and for other families who have nothing. Money wasn't what held us together. I just think that he's trying to play you for a fool because you still love him."

"Yeah, well, what about you? You gonna just sit there up in your ivory tower and –"

"Honey," Penelope sighed, "I'm not up to fighting. I know I'm being blunt and to the point, but think about what I'm saying. If you and Jack get together again and I die, what's the first thing that's going to happen?"

Christina bit her lip and sighed. "Yeah, I know. But remember – prenups exist in this version of reality."

"Yes, but anything with the courts is annoying, expensive, and stressful," Penelope sighed. "Baby girl… I just want you to think about it."

"I'm already way ahead of you," Christina replied. "So don't worry so much." She was already way ahead and soooo far behind. He'd surprised her, swept her off her feet, knocked the wind out of her sails, and the moment they had sex, all the bad shit hit her again in full force. He didn't ever really care how she felt or how much she got out of things – it was all about him. And her wallet? If they were ever even remotely short, he'd always put in a call to her father – which she hadn't found out till after she'd gotten him served.

Some people never changed. But she still loved him like a sick puppy. Maybe it was time to just go lesbian and get over it – boys suck.

"I just want you to be happy," Penelope mumbled as the painkillers started to kick in.

"Hey," Christina murmured, "Mama? Stop worrying and get some sleep – your body needs it right now, okay? I'll call Luca and tell him you're doing better today."

Penelope blinked wearily up at her. "I should call…"

"You should call nobody. You need to sleep, silly," Christina murmured, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "Just get some rest. It'll be better in the morning."

"He'll be worried," Penelope whispered.

"I said I'd call Luca," Christina said. "Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Not Luca," Penelope breathed as she nodded off.

* * *

She shouldn't have been surprised that Jack had chosen to take her to Noir for a late dinner after his gallery opening. It was, after all, her mother's favorite restaurant in Chicago, which meant that Christina was unbearably hooked on their chocolate custard and the macaroni and cheese. It also helped that it was owned and run by a celebrity chef who had a cooking show on Food Network and was pretty easy on the eyes. He liked to come out and flirt with Penelope and give her an amuse bouche whenever they came in – so whenever they had something to celebrate or commiserate, Noir was where they ended up.

What did surprise her was that Jack ordered a $500 bottle of wine.

Which was a tiny bit presumptuous, considering the fact that she was going to be telling him to shove off and keep the oar.

"How's your Mom doing?" Jack asked, looking up from the menu.

Christina sighed and set her menu away – she knew what she was going to have. "She's not good," she said bluntly. "She's better than she was three days ago, but they still need to start the actual treatments and that's not happening till she shows some signs of healing from the surgery. They're talking about a skin graft and –"

"Okay," Jack said, cutting her off. How she'd ever been able to love someone with a squeamish stomach, she didn't know.

"So… what are you going to have?" she inquired. "Besides a bottle of wine that you'll never make back on commission –"

"Don't start," Jack said. "I thought we needed something nice tonight and –"

"And you'd stick me with the tab?" she said with a sigh. "Like always?"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" she asked.

"Fine, whatever – let's not fight about the wine," Jack sighed. "And I'm going to have the short ribs."

She nodded. "Those are pretty good – Mama's favorite is the butter-poached salmon. But Dad always got the short ribs." She sighed.

"What about you?" Jack asked.

"Mac and cheese," Christina replied. "Best on earth."

"Only you would go to a five star restaurant and order macaroni and cheese," he scolded.

She paused and regarded him with a passive glare. "Why do you always find fault with me?" she asked. "Always, Jack – don't even deny it. You think I'm beautiful and talented and yet, you can't stand the sight of blood, and there's always something wrong with how I act or look. I'm surprised you didn't say anything about my hair."

"Well, since you brought it up – it's too short." He paused. "But relationships are about give and take –"

Her lips pursed together. "Maybe I should stop giving and you should take your man purse and go," she snapped. "Because the wine? And the comment about my hair? That's not going to go away. It's going to get worse and worse like before and I don't want to be in love with a man who only wants me because I can keep him comfortable and he doesn't have to work too hard – oh, and that swirly thing I do with my tongue. Yeah. Real good reasons to stay together. We're done, Jack. We're really done. I just didn't realize it till now."

"You're overreacting –"

"No, I'm not," she said, pointing at his messenger bag. "You have paperwork on houses in there – I can see it. And I bet you that they're way out of your price range. And you want to know something else, Jack? You're a lousy lover. So that girl you were dating? She probably only stayed with you because she was lazy and didn't want to give up regular sex, no matter how bad it is."

He stood up, grabbed his bag and left in a huff.

The waiter brought the bottle of wine and two glasses… then stopped.

"Oh, I'll definitely be needing that," Christina said, smiling for the first time all day long. "I have to toast getting rid of my ex once and for all, right?"

"I… should agree, but I'm not sure I should," the waiter said.

She beamed at him. "Oh, it's a very good thing," she said cheerfully. He poured her wine and she took a sip. "Mmm, thank you," she said.

"Have you decided what you'd like?"

"Macaroni and cheese," she said with a happy sigh. "With extra truffle oil. And the watercress salad." She paused then said, "And can I get the little plate of potato toppers to go? My mother's in the hospital and she'll be devastated if I don't bring her something."

"You know, most people wouldn't be this happy about breaking up with someone," he commented.

She laughed and took another drink. "Ah, well, the advantage in my case is that this is the second time we've broken things – and my ex-husband is a bit of a tool." She looked down into her wine goblet, then smiled again. "But… now I know that and it made it easier."

The waiter was cute and she suddenly realized that she'd never really taken notice of anyone but Jack. There was a whole world now that she was done hurting that she could get lost in. She watched him head to another table, then went back to reading.

She ate and read for her classes, suddenly surprised when she glanced up to see Mr. Celebrity Chef Owner standing at her table. "Hi," Christina said. "What's –"

Sam Halder smiled and held out a saucer. "Your mother always gets an amuse bouche, but since you decided not to bring her tonight, you'll have to do," he teased with a wink.

"Oh, believe me, you didn't have to," Christina laughed. "Not when I'm keeping you in business with that bottle of wine –"

Sam chuckled. "You'll be glad to know that I stopped Rafael before he brought you the $500 bottle – you've got a $25 bottle," he said. "The… gentleman… that you arrived with rubbed me the wrong way."

She smiled and nodded. "My ex-husband," she explained.

"You're too young to have an ex-husband," he said, setting the saucer down in front of her. "You should have this instead – it's a perfect bite: cucumber, honey-pickled radish, watermelon, and a slice of chili-oil-poached pork cheek."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Everyone tells me I'm too young to be married and divorced."

"Technically, you're too young to be drinking wine," he pointed out.

"Oh, you only know that because Mama told you how old I was at my birthday party," she protested with a pout. "Don't take it away – it's good."

"I could get my liquor license revoked," he said firmly.

She sighed. "Okay, okay – I'll be good. If you bring me some chocolate custard… the kind with salted caramel crunch."

"Now," he said, grabbing her wine glass and the rest of the bottle, "that I can do. Give me ten minutes."

Christina's smile grew. "Thank you, Sam –"

"How are your parents?" he asked.

She paused, feeling her happiness drain away. "Dad died a couple of weeks ago," she sighed. "And Mama is in the hospital to begin cancer treatment. She's not doing so well. Hence why I'm bringing her the potato toppers. It'll make her smile at least."

Sam sighed, and she looked at him with new eyes as he said, "I'm sorry about your Dad – you know he helped me fund Luna Noir out in Vegas? Because your mom loves this place so much. He was a good man, Mr. Rossi."

She nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I just – "

"Why don't you stay till we close?" Sam suggested. "And we can have a cup of coffee or something."

"I have an exam tomorrow," she said. "But – that would be wonderful." She smiled up at him and reached for the little stack of perfectly-formed food in front of her. "So, this is the perfect bite, then?" she asked, amused.

"Try it," he urged.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed, almost melting in delight. "Oh hell," she moaned around her mouthful of food. "That's better than sex."

He leaned in close and smiled. "Clearly, your ex-husband left something to be desired," he teased on a whisper. "Just hang out here – I'll get your custard."

* * *

Penelope awoke in abject pain – her chest wall felt like it was burning and the agony was radiating down her right arm into her fingers. She couldn't hold back the wail of pain or fight to reach the nurse's call button to beg for more drugs. It took very little time before they were giving her more painkillers, but she couldn't wait for them to kick in.

She fumbled with her phone and waited impatiently for him to pick up – four rings, five, six… And then she heard Derek's voice and she broke down. "I need you," she sobbed. "I can't do this alone – I can't – I'm hurting so much and – "

"I'm getting clothes on," he said, and she could hear him moving around. "And I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise – I promise, Baby Girl. Have they given you anything?"

"Yes, but it's not working yet," she whimpered.

"Okay – just close your eyes and rest – don't try to think about it," he said.

"Tell me a story," she whispered. "Please?"

He paused, then said, "Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince… a beautiful princess… and a knight who loved the princess more than life itself."

By the time he got to the hospital and into Penelope's room, she was sound asleep, the phone still against her ear. He tucked the blankets in snugly around her and kissed her gently on the lips. "I love you, Penelope," he whispered. "You'll never know how much."


	15. Chapter 15

Part fifteen:

Christina stopped dead still in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Derek glanced up at her and put his finger to his lips. He kissed Penelope's hand and she whimpered in her sleep, but stilled again once he'd rested her hand on her belly. He strode out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. "She had a really rough night," he said softly.

"Yeah, but the question remains – what are you doing here? They should have called ME – you hate her. Why the hell would you be here?" Christina hissed. "Why would you come here like this? Are you really so damn invested in making my mother unhappy that you'd –"

"She called me," Derek said, his voice low and tight. "She was worried about making you come back when you have your exams today –"

"Fuck my exams!" Christina exclaimed. "I am her daughter – she should have called me. My place is here with her during the worst of –" She glared at him and said, "And why would she call you anyway? You're just some guy she used to fuck back in the day."

Derek's hands fell to his sides and clenched into fists before they relaxed. "I love Penelope," he said very softly. "And I'm here for her because she asked me to be. It hurts me knowing she's in pain and suffering so much – because I love her."

"Mr. Morgan, this isn't the first time she's been through this," Christina said.

"No, but she had your father to help her," Derek said. "And she doesn't want to go through this alone."

"She's not alone," she snapped, getting right in his face. "She has me. And Luca. She is our MOTHER and we wouldn't let anything happen to her – you, I don't even know about you. You fucking – you fucking LEFT HER the day she found out she was pregnant with me, you piece of shit. How the hell does she know that you aren't just going to drop the ball again? Just – no, don't even talk to me. Get the hell out of here. Go home. Fuck off. I don't care – just don't come back here again. DON'T."

"Wait, you know I'm your father?" Derek said.

Christina threw up her hands. "Oh for fuck's goddamn sake, is that all you got out of that?" she cried in exasperation. "Yes, I know you're my biological father – I've known since I was like 10! Because, contrary in every way to you, my father was not a coward. I asked him if I was adopted because I don't look a thing like him, and he told me about you. So… yeah. I know. I've known. And I made my peace with knowing that you didn't want to know me – because I had Mama and Daddy to pick up the slack. But that doesn't matter, does it? Get out and don't come back – I am not about to let you hurt my mother any more than you already have."

The door opened behind her and Penelope said, "Stop yelling – the whole world can hear you out here." Her voice was shaky and weak and she was clutching her IV pole hard enough that her knuckles were stark white. Her right arm was in a sling and she was looking more than slightly disgruntled at having to be on her feet.

"Mama, you shouldn't be up," Christina scolded.

"You, shut up," Penelope said in clipped tones. "Haven't you already said enough?"

"Mama –"

"I called Derek because I promised him that I would call him if things got bad," Penelope said, looking over at him. "We've been making an effort to fix things between us."

Christina gaped at her. "What? Oh – oh no you didn't. After all that talking to you gave me about Jack and not hooking back up with him because he was just after my money, you've turned around and done the very thing you told me to avoid?"

Penelope swayed dangerously on her feet, the combination of radiation which had already been dripped into her veins and painkillers making her dizzy and sick. Derek dove past Christina and grabbed her before she collapsed. "Come on, enough tough girl act," he said softly. "You need to be in bed before you start throwing up."

"They started the treatment?" Christina asked.

"Yeah, first thing this morning," Derek said, guiding Penelope back to bed. "She's got another bag to go this evening yet."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Penelope protested weakly.

"Mama – why didn't you say –"

"Because I didn't want you to worry," Penelope sighed. Derek settled into the chair again, holding her hand, daring Christina to say another goddamn word about how much he didn't love her.

"Mama…"

"And you leave Derek alone," Penelope said firmly. "Derek is not Jack. He doesn't want your father's money. Believe me, I offered to get his roof repaired and his bathroom remodeled –"

"Woman, how many times do I have to tell you, we do just fine," Derek scolded, rolling his eyes and sighing. "Stop offering."

"See?" Penelope sighed.

Christina bit her lip. She hesitated a moment, then said, "So this is real, then? A real thing? You've already forgotten Dad and how happy you guys were? It hasn't even been a month!"

"I don't want to take Rossi's place," Derek said.

"You aren't," Penelope assured him, squeezing his hand. "Chrissy, I know this is hard to understand – because I don't really understand it myself. But right now – all I know and all you need to know is that Derek and I still love each other very much and he's helping me through this. Like you and Luca are – but not the same way. I'm fighting so I can maybe be around to see my grandkids someday, but no pressure or anything," she said, closing her eyes against a wave of nausea. "Fuck – Derek – bedpan –"

Christina stood there, helpless, as he held the pan and let her mother be sick. It echoed painfully back to when she'd seen the same scene played out over and over and over again… And she saw the concern and worry and love that she'd thought would be missing without her father there. God, that hurt – to know that someone else could love her mother as much as her father had! But she knew her mother's prognosis wasn't good… so maybe it was good to just let her be happy for a while?

"Mama, you should've told me they were starting things today," Christina scolded softly. "I would've been here to help –"

Derek looked up and shook his head. Penelope moaned and fell back against the pillows, exhausted. She didn't even try to pick up the conversation again, just drifted off into a fitful doze.

He took the bedpan into the bathroom and cleaned it out, then came back into the room. He pulled Christina to the corner and whispered, "I know you don't like me very much, and I can't say I blame you. I've done a lot of chump shit to your mom and I want to make it right. Okay? And if that means cleaning up when she gets sick and holding her hand through the worst days of her life, so be it. Anything to have back some of the time we've lost."

Christina nodded and sighed. "What happens if she decides to go back to Virginia for the rest of her treatments?" she asked.

He didn't even hesitate. "I'll quit my job, pack up the kids and move back to Virginia," Derek said firmly.

It was extreme, but the way he said it had her convinced that, yeah, he would. And woe be to anyone that said otherwise. "Just for her?" she asked.

"Isn't that what you do when you love someone?" he asked.

That was all she needed to hear.


	16. Chapter 16

Part sixteen:

"Thank you for picking me up," Penelope said softly to Hotch as they left the airport. "I don't think I should be driving."

"No, really?" Hotch asked dryly. "How's your arm?"

She shrugged and sighed. "Still tingly. They're pretty sure the biggest two tumors damaged the nerves and by cutting them out, they did more harm than good. But at least I can move my fingers again – it only took three weeks."

"I'm sorry," Hotch said, his voice full of compassion. "Is there anything they can do beside give you more pain pills?"

She laughed bitterly. "Not so much, no," she sighed, looking out the window as they drove down the street. "It's okay. I'm still alive and kicking and screaming bloody fucking murder, aren't I? Then it's okay."

"Right," Hotch agreed.

Penelope sighed. "I need to make some changes to my will – just in case," she said. "I'm not giving up, believe me, but if I die, it's probably going to be sudden and I want to be prepared." She turned to look at him. "I know you and Morgan are still friends – and that he's been keeping you updated on the state of my health."

Hotch sighed. "Sort of," he admitted. "No specific details, just general ones like that you were in the hospital."

She nodded, still watching the world whizzing past. "He's been too good to me the last few weeks," she murmured. "As his friend, I want you to work with me – if something happens and I can't… I can't be there for him," her voice cracked and broke completely.

"Penelope, don't try to –"

"It's important," she whispered. "I need you to help me – help me take care of him. And Mick and Wanda, too. Please, Hotch."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said.

"No – because tomorrow might be too late and I… I want it done," she said.

"Okay, we'll talk about it when I get you home," Hotch assured her. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired – a little nauseated," she sighed. "I'm surprised I haven't had a call from Chrissy and about ten from Derek."

"They're probably trying to let you have some space and be independent," Hotch said. "Which is completely at odds with me already having shown your nurse around the house today."

Penelope frowned and gritted her teeth. "I keep telling people that I don't need help, but no one wants to listen," she grumbled.

"And the new maid," Hotch added.

"A maid, too?" she groaned.

"Well, you can't dust yourself," he pointed out. "Or carry a bag of trash."

"Stop telling me what I can't do," she muttered irritably. "I already know what I can't do – you don't have to remind me, okay?"

"I'm just trying to help," he sighed.

"I'm overdue on my pills," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"Don't worry about it," Hotch said quietly.

"No, Aaron, I –"

"I said, don't worry about it," he said, pulling into her driveway and up to the house before he stopped. "Okay, let me get you inside and set you up with the nurse – and then I'll bring in your bags and we'll talk about your will after your pills kick in."

About two hours later, Penelope crawled into bed and suddenly realized that she'd never turned her phone back on. Once she had, message after message popped up for her. The last one was Derek, and she listened to it first. "Now, I know you aren't just ignoring me, Penelope," he scolded softly. "Come on, Baby Girl, just call and tell me you got home safe, okay? I'm fighting the urge to get on a plane and make sure you're all right. I love you, silly girl."

She called him back as she got comfortable. "Hey, you," she murmured. "I got home fine – I just had to meet the nurse and work with Hotch on something to do with the estate. No biggie."

"I was really worried about you," Derek said. "I thought something had happened and no one thought to tell me anything because 'we hate each other'."

"Hotch won't let that happen," she promised him gently. "You're probably going to get a call from him later, saying that it's about time we got our heads out of our asses." She stifled a yawn. "I'll call you later – I'm worn out, handsome."

"How is the nurse?" Derek asked.

She sighed. "She's fine – a little snarky, but fine."

"You two should get along well, then," he teased. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I know," she murmured. "I love you, too."

"Be good – no torturing the nurse for the sake of it," he scolded with a chuckle.

"Where's the fun in that?" she asked, pouting a little.

"Get some rest, Baby Girl."

She hung up, suddenly very unwilling to tell him that she couldn't sleep well without him anymore.

* * *

"So, when exactly did you two get cozy again?" Hotch asked with very little emotion in his voice. "I thought you were still pissed about everything."

Derek sighed. "So did I – for the longest time," he said, drumming his fingertips on his home desk. "But Rossi told me something very important in that envelope he left me and I had to talk to her about it. And I couldn't find it in me to be that angry at her anymore – even though she's the most stubborn, bull-headed woman on the damn planet."

"You're telling me," Hotch muttered. "We were going over some legal things this afternoon and she kept insisting that she was fine to do things she clearly wasn't. The new maid and the nurse kept trying to intervene and Penelope ended up throwing things at them with her good arm and telling them to get the hell out of her house."

Derek frowned. "She didn't hurt herself, did she?"

"No, but I'm not entirely sure she didn't wear herself out with her temper tantrum," Hotch said.

"I talked to her after that," Derek said. "She didn't sound very good, but kept saying she was fine."

"She's trying to put on a brave face," Hotch warned. "This happened twice before – and Dave and I had to stage an intervention both times. I'm not looking forward to having to do it again."

Derek's frown deepened. "She should just rest and let the drugs do their job," he said.

"You try telling her that," Hotch suggested. "I bet you get the boot just the same as the nurse."

Derek exhaled a deep sigh. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. "She'll probably change her mind about me – I wouldn't blame her. I'm no Rossi. The money doesn't matter as long as the people I love are happy." He looked out into the hallway where Wanda and Mick were fighting quietly about where the stud was in the wall so they could hang something up. "Speaking of, I might have to intervene in living room in a minute – the kids are fighting."

Hotch paused a moment, then said, "Look – if you and Penelope are really on better footing like you're both claiming, maybe you could talk some sense into her. She really can't take care of things by herself at the moment, hence the nurse and the maid. Luca is in and out of the house with school and he's going to be leaving in August for college. She needs to understand that she can't just handle things by herself anymore."

"I'll talk to her," Derek said. "And if things with the nurse and maid don't work out like they should, let me know. She'll never tell me that things are going so badly wrong. I already told Christina that if things got bad, I'd quit CPD and move house to be close enough to help."

"Yeah, somehow, I don't think your kids will appreciate that very much," Hotch pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Derek said firmly. "This is the one case where I'm not going to care what they think about things. If Penelope needs me, I will be there. End of story."

There was another long pause, and Derek could hear the kids hammering in the other room. Hotch finally said, "Are you still in love with her, Morgan?"

Derek sighed. "Are you going to lecture me if I say I never fell out of love with her?"

"You're going to get burned," Hotch warned. "She's not like you remember – she's quick to –"

"I know," Derek assured him. "I've spent a lot of time with her the last few weeks and I've seen Penelope at her best and her worst. Doesn't matter – I still love her."

"She told you about Jack and Christina?" Hotch asked stiffly. "Because that's where we fell out. She accused my son of beating her daughter and being a drunk piece of work, but what really happened is that Christina had a miscarriage and ended up snapping a little bit upstairs and hurt herself – and blamed Jack. She ran off and served him with divorce papers within a few days."

Derek felt a muscle in his cheek twitch as he ground his teeth together. "No offense, Hotch? But Jack isn't the perfect son you think he is," he said. "Did you know he was in Chicago a few weeks ago to try to win her back? He borrowed money from me and skipped town when she sent him packing. Now, I don't care about the money – but I do care that people I care about are at each other's throats because of it."

"I… I didn't know," Hotch said. "How much did he borrow – I'll cut you a check –"

"Man, did you not just hear me say that the money doesn't matter?" Derek asked. "Jack needs to get over himself. He's not god's gift to women and throwing money around when you don't have it is just going to make it hard."

Hotch sighed. "His commissions aren't going as well as they should be," he said. "No one's buying at the moment, so I've been paying his rent."

Derek sighed. "No wonder he wanted to try to hook up with Christina again – she's a rich heiress, and she'd be easy for the picking, since she's his ex and all…"

Hotch groaned. "Damn it, stop trying to talk sense – I can't believe that he'd just… do you think he's been lying to me all this time about them?"

"I think that Jack doesn't want his dad to see that he's failing in everything he really wants to succeed in – so he's blaming others for his inability to make things go the way he wants," Derek said bluntly.

Hotch sighed. "Damn it."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Derek said. "Shit happens. I mean, for god's sake, I broke up with Penelope and then got butthurt because she hooked up with Rossi – and I tried to destroy her wedding because I was too stupid to just tell her in the first damn place that I was scared that she'd never love me the way I loved her. So, yeah. Twenty years of shit pushed away because I still love her and now I can show her. What's the point in holding a grudge that long? It didn't make me any happier to think she was hurting, too."

Hotch snorted lightly. "You've got it bad," he commented dryly.

Derek sighed – less in annoyance than amusement. "Yeah, I guess I do," he agreed. "And if she does die from this, I want her to die knowing that I was the stupid one and it was my fault we weren't together the whole time."

Hotch chuckled. "Yeah, you're over your head," he teased. "But if you decide to drop everything and come back to Virginia, I can use some of my pull with the local PDs and get you a job. Just let me know, okay?"

Derek nodded, knowing full well Hotch couldn't see it. "Yeah, man – I will. But if I drop everything, it'll be to take care of Penelope. I don't know how I'd work and make sure she's okay, too. You know?"

Hotch sighed. "Well, don't get so wrapped up in Penelope's problems that you can't take care of your own," he warned. "She's sick and might die – but you'll have to keep living, no matter what."

"I know," Derek said very quietly. "But better to love and have lost than to have never loved at all."


	17. Chapter 17

Part seventeen:

Derek checked his watch, then looked at the boarding sign, then back at his watch. They hadn't delayed anything, but they were definitely running late. He was not pleased. His frown deepened and he sighed, rubbing the top of his head idly.

"You've got somewhere better to be?" a woman asked, sitting down beside him. "I mean, you've practically been dancing in your seat for the last ten minutes."

"Just anxious to get off the ground," he muttered.

"Really?" she asked dryly. "I couldn't tell."

She was pretty – dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothes… But he didn't care. He was too damn worried about Penelope. She hadn't called for days and he couldn't get anyone to tell him what was going on. Christina just said that she was probably too worn out from the treatments to call. Luca didn't answer the phone. Neither did Hotch. It left him feeling helpless and anxious for her welfare.

"So, what's so important that you're itching to get out of here?" the woman asked. "Hot date?"

He sighed and shook his head. "My girlfriend – I guess you'd say we're dating, but it's so much more complicated than that – stopped answering calls almost a week ago."

"Mmm, sounds like she's not interested anymore," the woman said with pity in her tone. "Though, why she'd want to give you up, I'd never know –"

He shook his head sharply. "Something had to have happened," Derek said firmly. "She doesn't just stop calling. She made a promise once never to stop talking to me." He sighed and covered his face with his hands. "She has cancer. She's going through treatment. I'm terrified that something happened."

"And what if it did?" she asked.

He looked up at her in disgust. "Then I'd be pissed that I wasn't there – because my damn flight is late!" he snapped. He was about to say more but his phone trilled. He grabbed it, saw it was Hotch, and answered. "Hey – where have you been?"

"I was in Washington, laying down the law with my son," Hotch said with a sigh. "I just got back to Viriginia."

"Have you heard from Penelope?" Derek asked anxiously.

"No – haven't you?" Hotch asked.

"No – she stopped answering calls or making them almost a week ago. I haven't been able to get in touch with Luca, and Christina blew me off –"

He could hear Hotch frowning. "Let me swing by the house and check on things –"

"Okay – my flight's about to board," Derek said. "I'll just get a cab when I get there."

"I'll call you as soon as I know anything," Hotch assured him. "You gonna be okay?"

Derek sighed. "Not if something's happened to her," he admitted. "I can't lose her again, Hotch."

"I know," Hotch said.

"I need to know she's all right – " He swallowed hard and sighed. "Look, I've got to go – they're boarding."

The woman was watching him, clutching her bag as he hung up. "Your girlfriend is very lucky," she said softly. "Don't wait to tell her how you feel, okay? She'll want to hear it."

Derek stood up and slung his carryon over his shoulder. "I plan on asking her to marry me," he asked.

The woman held out a small printed card. "Well… if anything changes, here's my card," she said with a small smile.

Derek looked at it for a moment, then pocketed it, knowing it would go in the trash as soon as they landed and he went to the bathroom. "Thanks for listening to me," he said with a sigh. "It's been a long day."

"Oh, believe me, if my ex-husband loved me as much as you love her, I'd listen to anything he had to say," she said wistfully before she headed away to board the plane.

Derek waited his turn in line and boarded, his stomach knotting up even more as he began to think of all the things that could be happening. The least of his worries was getting hit on in the damn airport.

* * *

Hotch was waiting for him at the baggage claim. "Hey," he said.

"I said I was going to get a cab –"

"Penelope's in the hospital," Hotch said. "Do you have any checked bags?"

"Just one," Derek said. "When did she go into the hospital?"

"Last week – she apparently caught a bug and she can't shake it with her immune system as weakened as it is," Hotch said.

"Why didn't anyone call me?" Derek demanded furiously. "For god's sake –"

"Luca would have been the one in charge," Hotch said. "He and Christina share her power of attorney now."

Derek almost snarled. "We'll see about that," he grunted.

"Morgan –"

"No – if those two kids don't care enough about her to tell people that she's taken a turn for the worse, why the hell should they be making her medical decisions for her? Let alone the financial ones." Derek's scowl deepened. "Luca isn't even eighteen, is he?"

Hotch sighed. "He has special legal dispensation."

Derek shook his head and sighed. "Well, clearly, the kid doesn't know what the hell he's doing," he muttered bitterly. "Because she's sick and no one knew –"

"JJ's been here," Hotch said. "Luca called her for help when Penelope took her turn – so at least someone has been here to take care of things."

"I want an explanation from the damn kid," Derek hissed. "I want to know what the HELL happened."

"Stop," Hotch said firmly as Derek grabbed his luggage from the carousel. "Going into this half-cocked isn't going to help anything. Stop it. Luca isn't a bad kid – he's just a kid. He's got school, work, and trying to make sense of what's going on when his father died and his mother's getting worse. Okay? You don't need to make this out to be malignant in any way – he called JJ, which shows he needed help and probably didn't have anywhere else to turn."

"That's not an excuse," Derek growled. "His first concern should have been for his mother – not for any of the other shit."

Hotch sighed. "Like I said, he's a kid, Morgan. He doesn't understand."

Derek muttered, "Oh, he's going to understand when I'm through with him."

* * *

Derek could tell that JJ was keeping him from going into the hospital room. Every time he moved to take a step, she blocked him. "How is she?" he asked, finally getting frustrated.

"Not good," JJ said. "You can't just march in there bold as brass," she said, holding up a hand and pushing him back. "You won't like what you're seeing – so just stand here and let me tell you what's going on, okay? She finished a round of radiation about a week ago and went home under her own power. Sometime between when she got home and when Luca got home from work that night, she collapsed – of course, on the nurse's night off. He got her to the hospital and they got her hooked up to everything and found out she's got a virus that mimics the flu but acts more like pneumonia. She's got the intestinal distress of the flu coupled with the fluid in her lungs and couldn't shake the fever. They put her on a feeding tube this morning and finally got her fever to break about an hour ago – but she's too weak to fight much more. So they've given her a sedative so maybe – maybe – she can rest and her body can start to repair itself. Till they get the virus under control, she can't continue treatments – so the oncologists have been in and out all day conferring with everyone else. "

"I don't care – I need to see her," Derek said stubbornly.

"Derek, she didn't want me to call you," JJ said firmly. "She doesn't want you to see her like she is."

"I don't fucking care," he said.

"Yes, you do," JJ said. "You care. And she's not in any shape for visitors right now."

Derek growled and rounded on JJ. "You know what, Jennifer? I need you to understand something right fucking now – I am not leaving just because you say Penelope doesn't want me here. If anything, I think you're the one that needs to leave for a while."

Her eyes widened and she said, "You aren't going in there till you calm down."

"Enough," Hotch said, finally stepping between them. "Morgan, JJ's already explained what's going on – Penelope is sedated. You don't want to disrupt her. JJ, Morgan's right – you need to go take a break. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't," JJ said sharply, glaring at Derek.

"I'm not leaving till I see her," Derek said, digging his heels in.

Hotch sighed and said, "Fine – you get five minutes. And then we're all going to the house and figuring out what the hell to do next."

"Someone needs to stay with her," JJ protested.

"She's sedated," Hotch pointed out.

"Yeah, but someone needs to be with her," JJ insisted.

"I'll stay," Derek said firmly. "As long as it takes."

JJ was about to open a big old can of whup-ass on him, and Hotch steered her away. "Let's go get some food and you can sleep a while," he said. "Morgan won't do anything stupid."

"No – she doesn't want him here," JJ protested.

"Did she say that or did Luca say that?" Hotch asked.

JJ's shoulders slumped and she sighed. "Luca."

"That kid is getting an ass-kicking," Derek muttered. "As soon as Penelope is feeling better, I'll turn her loose on him. I don't have a right to be pissed – she does."

"You're right," JJ said. "You don't have a right to be pissed. You aren't a part of her life, Derek. You made your choice a long time ago and walked away."

"Bullshit," Hotch said. "JJ, I don't know what your godson told you, but Derek and Penelope have mended their fences. He was with her the whole time she was in Chicago for her first treatments. That doesn't sound like walking away to me."

JJ's eyes narrowed and she muttered, "I'm going to kill that little snot."

"Get in line," Hotch replied. "Penelope gets first dibs."

"Go get some rest," Derek said. "And then we can make plans."

"What kind of plans?" JJ asked, confused.

"I'm moving back to Virginia – I can't leave Penelope," he tried to explain. "I can't let this happen again, JJ – she needs me here. But my kids…"

JJ nodded. "We'll make plans – after I crash."

Derek stayed in the corridor till they walked away, then he went into the room. The lights were dimmed, but even so, he could tell that Penelope was far from well. She was thin – too thin. Her skin was sallow and grey-tinged. Her head was covered with a stocking cap and there were entirely too many lines running into and out of her body. Her heart monitor beeped steadily.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her. "I'm sorry I'm late, Baby Girl – I'm sorry you've been going through this alone." The heartbeat on the monitor sped up just a little, then relaxed again. He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I love you – I do. I know it seems like I ran out and left you, but I didn't know you were sick. I came as soon as I knew for sure something was wrong. But that's not happening again – I'm not going to let it happen, sweetheart. I'm going to be here for you, I promise – in all the ways that count most. Okay?"

He sat in the dim lights, holding her hand, till he fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Part eighteen:

When Penelope woke up, her first instinct was to panic. She had a mask over her face and her arms felt like lead weights as she reached up and tried to claw the mask off. Her heart monitor was going crazy, but so was her heart – beating faster and faster with her panic.

Then the mask came off and Derek gently stroked her cheeks. "Shh," he whispered soothingly. "It's okay, Baby Girl – it's okay."

She took a deep breath and started coughing. He raised her bed and held a bedpan for her to hack a lung up into, then pushed the button for the nurse. "Hi," she croaked, very weakly.

"Don't try so hard to talk," Derek scolded gently. "You'll only make things worse." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You gave us all a scare there, missy."

She smiled, suddenly tired from the effort of waking up in the first place. "I'm sorry – but why didn't you come when JJ called you?" she rasped. "I told her to call you –"

"She didn't," Derek said bluntly. "But don't you worry about it, okay? We've already talked about it and set things straight."

She nodded and whispered, "I've got no hair left – and no boobs, either. I kept thinking why would he want me now when I'm such a piece of…"

"Shh," he murmured. "Hush, now. None of that. None of it, Baby Girl. I love you. Isn't that enough to know? I love you and I'm here now and I'm not leaving you, okay?"

"Where's JJ?" she asked.

"She's in Chicago," Derek said gently. "She'll be back in a few days – we're moving into your guest house."

Her eyes clouded over with pain. "You and JJ –"

"No, no," Derek said, shaking his head. "The kids and me – JJ's letting us borrow it till you get better. And you will get better," he said firmly.

She smiled a little in relief. "I thought you meant –"

"I know what you thought and how could you even think it?" he asked, frowning. "Haven't I been telling you every day for the last six months how much I love you?"

She sighed and nodded. "Except the last few days –"

"Two weeks," he corrected, kissing her very gently. "You really gave us a scare, Penelope. I really thought I was going to lose you again."

She lifted her bad hand to cup his cheek. "You can't get rid of me that easily, buster," she murmured.

He smiled. "Good," he said firmly as one of the nurses came in. "Hey, Anna – she's awake and being saucy… is that a good sign or a bad one?"

The nurse smiled and checked the chart. "Very good, Mr. Morgan – considering she should've woken up yesterday," she said, moving to check the machines and hook-ups before she took Penelope's vital signs. "You're doing much better, Mrs. Rossi – but you should rest till Dr. Overton gets here on his rounds. He'll be able to tell you more."

Penelope nodded. "I'm getting pretty tired," she admitted. "Already – which makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Derek said. "Silly girl." The nurse smiled at them and left, closing the door behind her. "Are you really tired or just faking it so the nurse goes away?"

"Really tired," she said with a sigh. "And my head is hot – " She reached up and yanked the hat off her head, suddenly remembering that she was bald when the cold air hit it. "Oh – that's why –"

Derek took the ugly black hat and got a new one from the little box beside the bed. He placed it onto her head and smiled. "That's better," he said. "It's your Sunday hat – JJ said so."

Penelope rolled her eyes, then reached up to adjust it, smiling when she realized it was her kitty cat knitted cap that Emily had sent from England. It had lopsided ears since Emily had gotten frustrated and quit, but that was part of its charm. "Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he replied, kissing her. "Can I talk to you about something? Nothing bad – just something that's been bothering me since I found out you were sick."

She nodded. "Yeah, of course –"

"Your son was very quick to point out that he and Christina share your power of attorney and that he didn't do anything wrong in telling JJ not to call me," Derek sighed. "I thought JJ was going to punch him in the face when he said that – but it brings up a valid point. I'm nothing and nobody to you as far as the law goes. I shouldn't even be here now."

She frowned and whispered, "You are not nothing – and you are most certainly somebody," she whispered. "Luca shouldn't have said any of those things – I'll talk to him…"

Derek sighed. "Penelope, he's right, unfortunately."

"If Luca treated you that way – no, no, you should share power of attorney with them," she whispered, looking up at him. "I need Hotch to come in and –"

"Baby," Derek said softly, "your kids are going to be pissed if you change things. They barely tolerate me being here in the first place."

She scowled. "My kids are going to have to get the hell over it," she snapped. "This is what I want – what they want doesn't matter."

Derek cupped her face in both hands. "Penelope, shut up and listen to me," he said firmly. "You know I don't want your money. You know I don't want to hurt you again. And I don't want to hurt your family. But I can't live like this, knowing that you could be taken away from me at any time and you don't know how much I love you."

"I know how much you love me," she whispered.

"No, you really don't," he said. "I love you so much that I want all the things we missed before – I still want to move in with you, create a family with you, be able to go walk on the beach in the moonlight once in a while…"

"I'm a little old for creating a family," she teased.

"No, we take your kids and my kids and push 'em together like the Brady Bunch," he teased. "Maybe adopt a kid or something. You're never too old to create a family."

She sighed and murmured, "I want that, too – but I –"

He kissed her gently and whispered, "Then will you marry me, Penelope?"

She blinked at him in shock. "What?"

"Marry me?" he repeated.

"Derek – honey – I can't," she exhaled. "No – no – I can't, not right now."

His face fell, and she sighed. But then he smiled a little and said, "That's okay – I'll just ask you every day and when you're ready, just say yes."

"What if I'm never ready?"

"Then I'll keep asking," he whispered, kissing her again. This time, she kissed him back, deepening the kiss and making it a promise. When they broke apart, he said, "Besides, one of these days, you're going to realize what a catch I am – I even clean toilets."

She giggled, but the giggle turned into a chest-heaving cough. He helped her, supported her, then made sure she was comfortable when the fit was over. "I love you," she exhaled wearily.

"I love you, too, Baby Girl," he promised. "Always. Even when you're gross."

She smiled and closed her eyes, falling asleep with her hand tucked securely in his.

* * *

"You're getting stubbly," she teased, reaching up to run her fingertips over his face and head.

Derek grinned. "You need to marry me and make sure I shave," he replied back in the same teasing tone.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Derek – don't move into the guest house."

"Why not?" he asked.

Penelope sighed. "I want you to move into the mansion, that's why. You and the kids. I want you closer than the damn guest house."

"The guest house is just in the backyard," he reminded her with a chuckle.

"I don't care – it's too far away," she sighed. "I'm going home tomorrow, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he teased.

"And I want you there – not the stupid nurse," she muttered. "There's a reason you have power of attorney now. And I want you in the house, not in the guest house."

He hesitated, then smiled. "Good thing I told JJ to start putting our stuff in the big house, right?" he said softly.

She stared at him, then smiled. "Oh, I could just kiss you!" she exclaimed.

"Oh really?" he asked, smirking. This was as feisty and full of life as she'd been in days, and he was more than happy to go along with it. "What about marrying me, then?"

"Stop asking me that," she scolded, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "My answer is still no – just like it's been every day, and sometimes three times a day, for the last week."

"You still haven't told me why you're saying no," he protested, pouting a little. He kissed her again and whispered, "If it's because you have no hair, I will spank you."

"No," she murmured against his lips. "Nothing like that."

"Then why?"

"Because you wouldn't even be here if I wasn't sick – or if Dave hadn't died," she whispered. "And I don't want you to feel like I've trapped you into all of this because I have cancer. I don't want you to pity me and want to marry me and love me because you want me to be happy before I die. I am happy – I'm happy that we've put everything bad aside and that we love each other. Isn't that enough?"

"Is it enough for you?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "For right now, yes," she whispered.

"I'm still going to ask."

"And I'm still going to say no," she murmured.

"Okay," he said. "But this isn't because I pity you in any way, Baby. I'm asking because I love you and I really do want to spend the rest of our lives together."

"I know," she said. She kissed him again and whispered, "I want to give you that – but not till I know for sure there's a rest of a life for me."

He smiled a little. "So, that's a provisional yes?" he asked hopefully.

She rolled her eyes. "That's a no with addendums," she contradicted.

"Which is a provisional yes."

"Stop being so optimistic," she ordered.

"No way – because I need my girl to be okay," he said with a grin. "So we can get married. Because she provisionally said yes and that's enough for me to go buy a ring."

"Don't you dare," she scolded. His only reply was a wink and a tender kiss.

* * *

Christina smiled across the bar at Sam and said, "So, my mom's going home tomorrow – and her… boyfriend, I guess you'd call him, maybe? Anyway, Derek wants to know if I'm up for a party this weekend. I mean, I know you're busy and all, but –"

He put a lemondrop down in front of her and said, "I can take a weekend off."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're really going to just let other people handle things for an entire weekend to go meet my family?" she asked skeptically.

"I already know your mom and brother," he replied.

"Yeah, well, I haven't told anyone we're dating," she said.

"We're not really dating so much as feeding each other a hell of a lot of love," Sam said with a wink and a smirk. "Besides, are you scared your mother won't approve?"

"Hell no," Christina replied. "If anything, I'm scared she'll try to steal you for herself."

"Never gonna happen, sweetness," he replied. She loved his blue eyes and cute little cheek dimples – and the sprinkle of freckles across his nose. He was adorable, full of life, and she loved every minute of being with him. "So… when do we leave?"

"Well… tomorrow morning?" she said. "I figured I could always cancel the ticket if –"

He came around the bar and gave her a lazy kiss. "You think too much," he teased. "We're all done for the night – wanna go back to mine?"

"Absolutely. After we go to my place so I can pack and put out the food for the cat," she said firmly.

He grinned at her and said, "You know what?"

"Hmm?"

"It's probably too soon to say 'I love you', isn't it?"

Her smile hurt her cheeks, it was so big. "Never – it's never too soon or too late," she assured him breathlessly. "Do you? Really?"

"I do," he said.

"I love you, too – definitely," she whispered, kissing him with fervor. "So much."

"Good," Sam said, fumbling in his pocket for a moment. "Because I'm going to do something that's really too soon –"

Her eyes widened as he brought out a brown velvet box and opened it. "Chrissy, I –"

She laid her finger across his lips, silencing him. "Yes. You don't even have to ask," she whispered. "Yes, Sam, I will marry you."

She couldn't wait to go home and prove that she wasn't the black sheep, after all. She had a nice guy, good marks in school, a tidy sum of cash at her disposal, and a huge diamond on her finger. Life was good – maybe too good, but she could deal with the fallout later.


	19. Chapter 19

Part nineteen:

"Here we go," Derek said, making sure she was tucked up in bed. "You need anything else? Another pillow? The remote for the tv? A different hat?" He kissed her forehead and smiled. "A glass of water?"

"Another kiss," Penelope replied sweetly.

"Ah, now, that I can definitely do," he replied, his smile turning into a saucy grin. He gave her a gentle, lingering kiss on the lips, then pulled away and murmured, "Now, I need to go help JJ and the kids empty the moving van – they're almost done."

"Are your kids mad?" she asked worriedly.

"Probably," he sighed. "Wanda isn't speaking to me or JJ, and Mick is being Mick – he's answering everything in sign language… rudely."

She sighed. "Well, the least I can do while I'm cooped up in here is get them enrolled for school," she commented dryly. "If someone would be so kind as to get me my computer."

"Penelope, you don't need to take care of things for me," Derek scolded.

She scowled at him. "Bring me my computer," she ordered. "If I have to lie on my back and do nothing all day, I'd like to think that I'm doing something useful. And your kids need to go to school."

"None of your fancy private schools," he said, shaking a finger at her.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "The private schools are the only decent option around here at the moment," she said. "Luca goes to St. Mary's –"

"We aren't Catholic," Derek said automatically.

"I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, that Hillside College Preparatory Academy is the other best private school system in the region," she said with a less than amused smile. "They run grades 6-12, and grades 11-12 are basically college courses. That's where Christina graduated from," she added helpfully.

"And who exactly is footing the bill for this?" he inquired, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

She raised her hand. "It's the least I can do after you dropped everything and moved out here."

"You can't just pay my way, Penelope."

"And why not?" she challenged. "You're here in the capacity of my full-time care-giver, so why shouldn't I pay you a fair wage for it?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Penelope – I'm responsible for my children."

"And I'm just trying to help, dear," she replied. "So give me the computer and hush. We'll need to order uniforms, too – so I'll need their sizes."

"You do realize Wanda is going to have a thousand fits at a school uniform, right?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's unavoidable."

"Okay," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You pick the school. I'll buy the uniforms and try to negotiate with the kids to make the transition as painless as possible. Right now, they're just…"

"Angry that their lives have been disrupted. I know," Penelope said with a sigh.

"And their grandparents are just as pissed," Derek commented with a frown. "But I'm not going to worry you about it, okay?" He gave her another kiss, then retrieved her computer from the desk on the other side of the room. "At least try to get some rest, okay?"

She nodded; she didn't really have any intention of resting or relaxing – there was too much to be done.

* * *

Derek and JJ were in the process of pulling a dresser up the main stairs when Christina and Sam arrived. "Hey, don't mind us," Christina said with a smile. "Where's Luca – shouldn't he be helping you move the heavy stuff?"

Derek didn't even try to reply till they had the dresser up on the landing. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and said, "He's spending the weekend with his girlfriend's family."

Christina's smile turned to a frown. "Oh – well – do you guys need some help?"

Mick stomped out of one of the rooms, signing furiously, his face contorted in anger. Derek's shoulders slumped and he signed back in resigned tones, then JJ interrupted, signing more. Mick sighed and pushed past them, going downstairs in a huff. He only spared Christina and Sam a cursory glance before he went into the kitchen.

"He wanted to know what was for lunch," JJ said. "I told him we'd go out and get something once we've finished moving the big furniture."

"Why?" Sam asked. "I can make something –"

"There isn't much in the house," Derek said, pushing the dresser down the hall. Once he and JJ had guided it into another room, they appeared at the railing again. "But you're welcome to try – I'm sure no one would mind."

"Derek, Aunt JJ, this is Sam Halder," Christina said by way of introduction.

JJ waved. "I know your show – my son has one of your cookbooks," she said with a friendly smile. "Glad to meet you."

Derek appraised him for a long moment, then headed down the stairs without a word. "JJ, we've got a futon and two more bed frames to move," was all he said. "We should get a move-on."

Christina sighed and looked at Sam. "I'm going to go see Mama – why don't you go see what, if anything, you can find in the kitchen. If we need to, we'll go to the store," she said, giving him a quick kiss before she dashed up the stairs as JJ came down.

"Derek's just having a long day," JJ tried to explain.

"Doesn't matter much to me," Christina replied as she turned left – the opposite direction of where Derek's family was now going to be living – toward the master suite and her old room… and Luca's room. She paused and knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" Penelope called.

Christina opened the door and smiled as she walked in. "Hi, Mama," she greeted with a smile. "It's good to see you not hooked up to all the machines –"

"I feel much, much better," Penelope said with a huge smile. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, accepting her daughter's hug. "Don't you have work to be doing or –"

"Derek asked if I'd be up for coming out for the weekend to see you," Christina said with a smile that hurt her cheeks, it was so wide. "Are you surprised?"

"I am!" Penelope cried. "Especially since your brother isn't here…"

"He's at Megan's," Christina replied.

Penelope frowned. "I guess he's still pissed about the power of attorney thing."

"Well, think about it from his side," Christina said with a sigh as she sat down on the bed. "Wouldn't you be a little upset?"

"He didn't even tell you what was going on," Penelope reminded her.

"No, he didn't," Christina said, "but that's just Luca – he thinks he can handle things and doesn't like it when the rest of us know he can't."

Penelope sighed. "He was irresponsible –"

"Mama, stop," Christina said gently. "He called JJ to help. That makes it a little bit better, right?" She sighed. "He doesn't like you thinking of him as a disappointment. And he's upset because you didn't give him a second chance; you just stripped him of the right to try and gave it to Derek Morgan."

"Who has already shown more capability for handling my medical decisions than –"

"Mama, that's not the fucking point," Christina snapped. "Dad died, what, seven months ago? And all of a sudden, you've just shut your kids out in favor of some guy you're having a fling with. It hurts, Mama – I've tried to avoid saying anything that will make it all worse, but I agree with Luca. Derek Morgan isn't doing you any favors. And having him move in with his kids isn't going to help anything. But you aren't even thinking about anyone else – just you and what's going to make you happy till you fall over and croak. So, I don't even want to hear why you think it's okay to just… capsize our family."

Penelope just stared at her, not saying a word.

"Well, say something," Christina said sharply. "Deny anything that I'm saying. Or tell me it's true – hell, tell me you weren't thinking clearly. Something – anything – just don't sit there, looking at me like I've lost my mind, Mama!"

"I love Derek very much," Penelope said, her voice low and quiet. "It's not a fling. And, yes, okay, I'm a very selfish person right now – haven't I earned the right to be?"

Christina shook her head. "No," she said very quietly. "You have not."

Penelope sighed. "Okay, fine – then we're stalled here. You hate Derek, Luca hates Derek –"

"I don't hate him, but I hate what he's doing to our family," Christina said sharply. "And I miss my daddy, okay? Don't even try to make me pretend that Derek fucking Morgan is my father – because he's not."

"No, he's not," Penelope agreed. "He's your biological father – but he's not the one who was there when you took your first steps or stayed up with you when you were teething. And he didn't make you breakfast and kiss your boo-boos…"

"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you have to make the rest of us miserable!" Christina exclaimed. "Okay? I don't want Derek Morgan to replace Dad."

"He is never going to replace your father," Penelope whispered, choking up. "Not ever."

"Why did you start seeing him again?" Christina demanded. "Why, Mama? Twenty years apart wasn't enough? Why?"

"Because something changed," Penelope said, her voice breaking. "And we couldn't keep going like we were – it wasn't fair."

"What changed? Dad died?"

"Your father told Derek about you," Penelope said softly. "And… things happen."

"'Things happen' is what you say when the condom breaks," Christina said scathingly. "Or when you sign divorce papers. Relationships don't just change on a dime like that."

"Don't they?" Penelope asked, frowning. "You and Jack –"

"Oh no, don't even bring him up," Christina muttered. "Don't think you can just drag me through the mud again, okay? He's gone – history. My ex is exed out of my life. Sayonara, motherfucker."

Penelope sighed. "Yes, well, Derek and I –"

Christina tossed her head and scowled at her mother. "Did you ever love Daddy or did you just settle for him because you couldn't have your precious Derek Morgan?" she asked.

Penelope recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "How can you even ask that question?" she exhaled shakily.

"I think it's a pretty straightforward question," Christina said. "So answer it."

"I love your father very much," Penelope whispered. "And if I had the choice to have Derek or Dave – I would pick David Rossi again. I chose to be with your father – there was no settling. He swept me off my feet when I was pregnant with you and made me feel loved – truly loved and wanted and valued. It wasn't just sex and it sure as hell wasn't comfortable for either of us."

"You could've called it quits any time –"

"He had three divorces under his belt," Penelope murmured. "And you and Luca were enough to smooth out all of our troubles. We were happy because we wanted to be together and we wanted to be happy together – not because either of us was 'settling'."

"You're just saying that because I'm putting you on the spot –"

"No," Penelope whispered. "No, believe me – I would do anything to bring Dave back for our family. For you and your brother – for me. Because he was everything to all of us. Derek… I love Derek. But not the same way I loved your father. Derek and I – we're like a fire. We burn and burn and burn. But your dad and I? We were like the ground in the garden. We didn't look like much, but we grew some of the best things – and we grew together. And I miss him every day." She pulled Christina into her arms and whispered, "And it breaks my heart that you and your brother are hurting. God, it breaks my heart."

"Why didn't you say that?" Christina asked, holding onto her mother for dear life. "Why haven't you said any of that to me – or to Luca? Why are you making it look like you don't care?"

"Because," Penelope whispered, "when you hurt so much, all you want is for the pain to stop. And Derek makes the pain stop for a while – I don't want him to replace your father. I just… I want to feel loved again."

"How did you know Daddy was the real deal?" Christina asked, tucking her head into her mother's shoulder.

Penelope hugged her tighter. "The team went to Arizona and came back on a Monday at lunchtime," she murmured. "And I'd had a doctor's appointment that morning, and all your dad wanted to talk about was you and how much you'd grown and was I feeling okay and would I like Chinese for lunch and there was a late-night showing of Arsenic and Old Lace and would I like to come with him." She smiled sadly. "And while we were watching the movie, he put a ring on my finger and asked if I'd marry him and let him be a daddy to my little girl."

"And you said yes?"

Penelope laughed. "Are you kidding? I told him hell no."

"What? Why?"

"Because we hadn't even slept together yet," Penelope said with a smile. "Not sex – actually sleeping together in the same bed. Until you sleep with someone, you don't know if it's going to work."

"Really?" Christina asked.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Penelope asked.

Christina cleared her throat. "I kind of have a boyfriend," she said. "Well… more of a fiancé."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa – back up that truck, miss thang," Penelope said firmly. "When did this happen?"

Christina sighed. "Okay, well, we've known each other –"

"When?"

"I don't think you get to lecture me on my track record, Mama."

"Excuse me for being concerned after I had to pick up the pieces after Jack –"

"Sam isn't anything like Jack," Christina snapped. "He's a good man, Mama. He's going to be a good father and a good husband and –"

"You couldn't have come to me and told me you were seeing someone?" Penelope asked.

"Not when you're sick – almost dead – and Mr. Neanderthal is in the way," Christina muttered. "Besides, you would've gotten upset."

"I'm… I'm upset now," Penelope sighed. "Are you crazy or just stupid? After what happened before –"

"It's not the same," Christina argued. "No part of my relationship with Sam is even remotely the same as my relationship with Jack."

"It's too much, too fast –"

"And you and Derek aren't?" Christina challenged. "What would Dad say to both of us right now? What would he say to you?"

Penelope rolled her eyes and sighed. "He'd just ask if I'd lost my mind," she muttered.

"Yeah, and he'd tell me to be careful because marriage is a huge step –"

"He knew that better than anyone," Penelope said, smiling sadly. "My Italian Stallion… I finally broke him."

Christina made a face. "Mama, ew, thanks, no," she said quickly. "Mental image – scarred for life. My point being that you completely missed my point in the first place. Daddy would just want us both to stop and take stock and make sure this is what we want and need. And, well… when you know, you know. And I know Sam is a good man."

"I don't have to approve right now, do I?" Penelope sighed.

"Well, just so you know, I brought Sam with me," Christina said. "He's downstairs with Mick, trying to make lunch. So, really –"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," Penelope called.

Sam stuck his head in the door and smiled. "Hi, Mrs. Rossi – Babe, can you run to the store and get a couple of things? Mick and I are going to make soup."

Penelope looked at Christina with wide eyes. "That's your Sam?" she asked.

Christina blushed. "Yes, Mama, that's my Sam."

"Well, then – I take back everything else I was going to say," Penelope said. "And we'll talk more about this later."

"What, just like that?" Christina asked.

"You want to keep fighting?" Penelope shot back.

"No –"

"Then go," Penelope replied, nodding and pointing in the direction of the door. "Besides, I'm tired. It's naptime. Shoo. Go on, get outta here."

Christina sighed and left with Sam. Penelope waited till she knew for sure they were gone, then she grabbed the phone. "Hey," she said when she got Luca's message system, "it's Mom. I'm home from the hospital and we need to talk. Preferably before you move to Nebraska for school. But, you know, if time and distance make It better, then so be it. But we do need to talk. I love you, honey. Please call me back or, you know, come see me." She hung up and closed her eyes.

Was it too late to change her mind? Yes. Was everything always going to be this raw ball of hurt and anger and grief? No. Or at least, she didn't think so…

But she was just trying – trying so hard – to do what Dave had wanted her to do. They had fought about just this in his last few hours. She had clung to the idea of being the grieving widow and he'd told her that she was not that woman – not ever. Not since she had been Penelope Garcia and mourning the break-up between her and Derek. And he'd told her that some fences could be repaired, even when they were broken beyond all recognition.

His last wish for her was that she'd be happy – and he'd been determined in thinking that Morgan would make her happy again when he couldn't anymore.

Penelope huffed and punched the pillow. Yeah.

David Rossi was a consummate bastard.


	20. Chapter 20

Part twenty:

Derek breezed into the room, gritting his teeth. "Okay, our stuff is moved in, finally," he muttered. "And I've got to make a trip out to pick something up – you want me to pick anything up for you?"

Penelope was indulging in a nap on the window-seat, taking in the last rays of the evening sun. "Hmm?" she murmured, rousing herself from her doze. "What?"

He came over, leaned down, and gave her a gentle kiss. "Nevermind," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," she said, stifling a yawn. "I'm going to try to go outside and walk for a while tomorrow. I'm feeling a little cooped up."

He chuckled and kissed her again. "Now there's that Baby Girl of mine," he teased. "Do you need anything while I'm out?"

She shook her head and yawned again. "But that won't stop you from finding something to pick up, will it?" she asked.

"Well, JJ and the kids made it here without any treats for Munchkin," he said, "and I think she feels like she's being punished."

"Poor puppy," Penelope said sadly. "How is she taking all of this?"

"She's trying to make friends with your dogs, but they keep running away," Derek said.

"Maybe you should let her come inside, then?" she suggested. "I'm sure she'd be happy to see Wanda and Mick."

"I'm not so sure about that," Derek said. "She has problems when she's upset or uncomfortable –"

"What kind of problems?" she asked.

"She pees."

"Oh, well –"

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd want her in the house with her penchant for doing that," he sighed.

"Derek, she's never going to be comfortable or happy if she's outside," she pointed out. "She's a house dog, not an outside dog. So let her in and we'll deal with the consequences later."

"I'll let her in when I get back," he promised. "You sure you don't want anything? Sam and Christina are making dinner…"

"I'm not really hungry," she said softly. "You go do what you need to do and we'll talk when you get back." She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and got comfortable again, drifting off to sleep. She was vaguely aware of being lifted and carried to bed, where she was tucked in.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up with a terrified start – her heart racing, her blood pounding in her ears, bile rising in her throat. Penelope heard a worried waffling noise from the giant dog in bed with her – when had Munchkin come inside? – and she reached over to pet her muzzle soothingly. "It's okay, little girl," Penelope murmured. "I'm okay. What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be with your boy or your girl? Or your daddy?" Munchkin's only reply was to slurp Penelope's face with her giant, drool-covered tongue.

"Okay, come on," Penelope murmured, "get down – and let's get you outside for a few minutes. And I can get a snack." She got out of bed and the enormous puppy hopped down after her, bumping into her eagerly as they walked downstairs together. They turned into the kitchen and saw Mick getting into the fridge – and he was oblivious to their approach because they were coming from his right side.

Munchkin plodded up to him and nudged Mick – and he dropped a full glass of milk on the floor, crying out. Penelope caught his eye and motioned that it was okay, and grabbed a towel from one of the drawers. He eyed her distrustfully, but by then, Munchkin had already slurped up most of the milk and was looking at him expectantly. "Go outside?" Mick asked the dog, who woofed. "Okay," he said, going to the back door and letting her out. Then he turned back to Penelope. "I was thirsty, okay?"

"Honey, it's fine," Penelope tried to assure him. "I was hungry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You almost made me pee my pants," he accused.

"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Yeah, by not scaring the heck out of me," Mick snarled.

Penelope rolled her eyes a little and went to the cupboard. She got down a bar of chocolate – the really good kind that she'd always had to hide from Dave – and pulled out a pot from the cupboard. She then retrieved the milk – ugh, skim? Derek, why? – and some spices from the lazy susan.

"What are you doing?" Mick asked, suddenly curious as he watched her putter around the kitchen.

"Making hot chocolate," she replied. "Enough for two – do you want some?"

"That's not how you make hot chocolate," he said, frowning. "Hot chocolate comes in pouches and you add hot water and extra marshmallows."

She smiled. "Well, then, you're in for a treat, aren't you?"

"I don't know. You could be trying to poison me," he muttered.

"Now, why would I do that?" Penelope asked. "You live here, now – and in my house, we have some special rules. Just ask Christina and Luca."

"Who's Luca?" Mick asked.

"My son – he's not much older than you and your sister," she said with a little bit of a smile. "Anyway, we have special rules – like no hot chocolate out of a package. And no spaghetti sauce out of a jar. And, if you think you aren't dressing up for Halloween, you've got another thing coming," she teased.

He fought a smile, but she could see his lips twitching. "Okay, maybe I won't hate it here," he said. "Maybe not totally, anyway."

She stirred the pot and smiled over her shoulder. "We should make cookies tomorrow…"

"I don't eat a lot of sweet stuff," he said. "Dad doesn't like it."

"Well, your dad's just going to have to get over it," Penelope replied cheerfully. She poured the steaming chocolate mixture into two mugs and sprinkled a little bit of cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger onto the top of it. "I don't have marshmallows, so this will have to do," she said apologetically as she passed him a Star Wars mug. "What's that face for?"

"You like Star Wars?" Mick asked.

"Of course I like Star Wars – who doesn't?" Penelope asked.

"I didn't think you would," Mick said quietly. "Dad always said you weren't very nice –"

"Yeah, so you said at the funeral," Penelope sighed, taking a sip of her drink. "Is that why you were so mad about coming here? Because you thought I was a mean, horrible old witch who doesn't like Star Wars and eats little kids for breakfast?"

"No," he muttered, pretending to be absorbed in his drink.

"Well, I'll tell you something," she said. "I'm glad that you're here."

"Oh," was all he said. "I'm going back to bed now. Dad'll flip if he finds out I'm up past two."

"Where is your dad, anyway?" Penelope asked.

Mick's brow furrowed. "In his room – where else would he be?" he asked.

"Nowhere – I was just curious," Penelope said. "He's usually up around now, so…"

Mick raised an eyebrow, looking so much like Derek that she wanted to pat him on the head and chuckle. "Uh, okay…"

"Hey, just a thought," she said as he got up. "Have you ever wanted to see if you were a candidate for a cochlear implant?"

"I qualify," he said, "but we can't afford it."

Penelope regarded him pensively. "Oh," she said softly. "Did your dad say that or –"

"No, I said it, because it's a lot of money," Mick said with a frown. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay," she said. She finished her drink and went to let the dog in. Of course, Munchkin was sitting right by the door, eagerly panting as she waited for the door to open. "Yes, hello," Penelope said, and the dog rushed past her to the huge food and water bowls in the corner. The puppy drank for a minute, then took off out of the kitchen like a shot.

Penelope rolled her eyes and started upstairs, turning the lights off as she went. And when she got back to her room, she found the dog already up on her bed, comfortable on Dave's side of the bed. She chuckled and climbed in, turning off the light. "Goodnight, Munchkin," she sighed, reaching out to stroke the dog's fur. "I wish you were Derek."

The puppy merely made a non-commital noise in reply.

* * *

"You're up early," Penelope said as she came into the kitchen to find Wanda and Christina nursing a pot of coffee.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," Christina said. "Derek said to tell you he'll be back by ten."

"Did he say where he was going?" Penelope asked.

Wanda glared sullenly at her. "To the airport," she said. "To pick up Uncle Reid and Aunt Emily."

Christina kicked her underneath the table. "That was supposed to be a surprise," she hissed.

Wanda scowled at her. "Do I look like I care?"

"Is there any more coffee?" Penelope asked.

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee with all the stuff you're taking," Christina said.

Penelope shrugged and went to pour herself a mug. "There are a lot of things I shouldn't do with the meds I'm taking," she said, "but what doesn't kill me makes me stronger. Except for the cancer. That's just killing me slowly and taking away my strength."

"Stop it," Christina sighed. "Just… stop it."

Mick came into the room and started signing to his sister. Wanda's frown deepened, and she eyed Penelope, then said, "Mick wants pancakes."

"We have a rule about pancakes," Christina said, grinning at her mother.

"Mmm, yes," Penelope agreed. "They must be drowned in home-made syrup."

"Did I hear someone say pancakes?" Sam asked, coming into the room and walking over to kiss Christina. "I can do that –"

"No, no, it's my turn to spoil you all," Penelope said firmly. "So just you sit and relax and I'll make pancakes and syrup."

By the time Derek got back with Emily and Reid in tow, Penelope had wowed the kitchen with her pancake making skills. And her ability to flip a perfect pancake every time. She smiled over at Derek and said, "I see you brought company – where's JJ?"

"Sleeping off last night, I should hope," Christina said with a giggle.

"Yeah, that was interesting," Derek said dryly. "JJ can't hold her liquor anymore."

"What did you all do?" Penelope asked worriedly.

"We drank a lot," Christina said. "And JJ kind of stumbled out to the guest house and hasn't been heard from since."

"Oooh, there's pancakes," Reid said excitedly. "Did you make syrup, too?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Don't mind him – he's all manners," she said sarcastically. She moved to hug Wanda and Mick. "How are you?" she asked both kids, waiting for the answers and getting none.

Christina got up and said, "We've got an appointment, so we better be off – right, Sam?"

"Right-o," Sam replied, rising from the table. "It was nice to sort of meet you all…"

Wanda sighed and viciously stabbed her pancakes with a fork. "I hate it here," she growled.

"Wanda, mind your damn manners," Derek snapped.

Penelope held up her hand. "Enough," she said softly as she passed Reid a plate of pancakes. "She's entitled to not like it here, and she's definitely entitled to tell you and me both that she doesn't like it. She's not hurting my feelings, she's just being honest."

"I don't have anywhere to put my sewing stuff," Wanda sighed dramatically. "I need to sew. Or something. I hate it here."

Penelope blinked. "I can clean out the nursery," she said. "Today, even – it's not like we need baby furniture taking up space or anything. And you can use that room."

"Don't let me put you out or anything," Wanda said sarcastically.

Derek slammed his coffee mug onto the countertop with enough force that Mick jumped, startled. "Young lady, you will treat Mrs. Rossi with respect," he said in a deathly low voice.

"Or what, you'll ship me back to Granny and Gramps?" Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow eagerly.

"You won't get your sewing room," he threatened, "or any more fabric."

"I hate you!" Wanda shrieked, getting up and stomping away. "You're ruining my life, Dad!"

Mick looked over at Penelope and said, "These are really good pancakes, Mrs. Rossi."

She shook her head and smiled. "You want anything, Emily?"

JJ stumbled into the room and mumbled, "Bloody Mary – stat."

"I'm pretty sure JJ needs some pancakes," Emily said with a chuckle. "But I'm okay for right now."

"No, I need a Bloody Mary and for you to stop yelling at me," JJ whined, sitting down in the seat Wanda had vacated.

Derek poured another mug of coffee and put it down in front of JJ as he took Wanda's plate and silverware away. "Drink this," he said firmly. "It will help."

"Are you trying to make me puke?" JJ asked, scowling at him pathetically.

Mick signed something to his father and Derek suddenly smiled. "Okay, buddy," he said. "We can do that today."

"Do what?" Penelope asked.

Derek came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Don't you even worry that pretty head of yours," he said softly. "He just wants to take Munchkin to the park."

She poked him in the abs. "Oh really?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yes, really."

"Where were you last night?" she asked very, very quietly. "I slept with your dog –"

"I didn't get to bed till late and had to be up early to go to the airport," he replied. "I didn't want to disturb you, Baby Girl."

She growled low in the back of her throat. "Next time, don't worry about disturbing me," she said warningly. "We're in this together, right?"

Emily coughed. "Not to interrupt your little love-fest or anything, but I'd like some pancakes now," she said pointedly.

"Yeah, maybe she'll stop eating mine if you give her some," Reid said, laughing.

Emily slugged him in the shoulder. "Smart-ass."

"Aspirin," JJ begged.

Derek delivered the pancakes to Emily and said, "I don't even know where to look for aspirin –"

"That cabinet," Penelope said, "on the top shelf." She pointed, then rubbed the sweat off her forehead with her forearm. "Anyone else want food?"

"You should take a break," Reid said. "You aren't looking very well at the moment."

"Shut up," Penelope said firmly. She glanced at the pile of pancakes on the platter and turned off the burner. "Okay, that's all I'm doing today." Derek came over and put his arm around her waist and leaned in close.

"Hey," he whispered, "don't push it so much, okay? You were just really damn sick and you haven't gotten your strength back."

She sighed. "Okay, okay – but I can't rest forever, you know."

"You know what Mick said?" he asked.

"No…"

"He wants to take Munchkin to the park – but he thinks you're really nice and wishes you were his mom," Derek whispered very close to her ear. "So will you marry me now?"

He was tugging on her heart strings. "Derek, no," she murmured. "Not now –"

"Soon, though," he breathed.

"Maybe," she whispered back. "Maybe."


	21. Chapter 21

Part twenty-one:

For the second night in a row, Penelope tossed wearily in bed, unable to get comfortable or feel like she could actually fall asleep. She wanted to tell herself that it was just because she'd been relatively inactive all day – just playing games with everyone and helping Sam make dinner – but that was a lie. It was because the bed was too big for one person and too lonely. Not to mention, it was hard to keep warm – she'd been losing weight steadily between the treatments and being ill, so even in sweats and heavy socks, she was freezing beneath her blankets.

It hit her hard, like a punch to the sternum, that no matter what else happened, she was really rather alone in all of this. Whether she died or lived was not so much the issue – because, either way, she was alone to face the worst days ahead. Derek couldn't face the wall with her; she had to do it herself. She'd made the choice to attempt to fight, and she knew that the road would be hard and long – but she'd never expected him to suddenly just turn his back on her.

Her heart clenched and she bit back a sudden, broken sob. God, she wanted Dave back so badly – she needed him. He'd grounded her, kept her focused and moving along the path… A clawing, nagging fear gripped her in its icy cold grasp – she wasn't enough by herself to fight this, and she was just putting off the inevitable. She would stare Death in the face and lose herself.

But to go to Derek, to admit that she was scared, weak, full of panic and grief – it was too much for her to contemplate. And he deserved so much better than to be saddled with her – sick, dying, broken in ways she couldn't even begin to understand, let alone articulate. She'd been fighting with the pain all day, both physical and psychological, and she finally felt in the dark hours of the night like she could really give up.

And all the tears in the world could not banish that feeling.

She got out of bed and began to pace, muttering in broken words of English, Italian, and French that made no sense to anyone but her. Her heart was shattering, her soul was crushed in this black mass of emotions she could no more understand than explain and every part of her cried to just give in – give up, stop fighting, breathe in the last breath of desolation and despair and reach out to whatever fate awaited her. Why was she still alive? She was ill – so very ill. Why hadn't the cancer taken her already? It had had enough chances…

She'd done so many things wrong – handled them badly. Luca was right to be angry; she'd been so selfish. And Derek just up and moving everyone…

The dam burst – she ran to the bathroom and barely made it before she was sick. Her retching echoed in the room, caught up with her sobs and a tiny, whispered plea: "Make it stop."

It was incredibly, painfully real now – every mistake of her past was riding the train into the station and threatening to run over everything in their path. And she was powerless to stop it. Would she even try if it meant hurting everyone else that much more?

It hurt like hell.

She started shaking as the realization settled in that she was less important than she'd thought to everyone around her. Why else would she be alone? She slid to the floor, bending her knees and burying her face in her knees. She'd been subject to every humiliating side effect of this disease and its treatment – hair loss, weight loss, sallowness in her skin, nausea, horrendous headaches, secondary infection – and she was at her breaking point. She was alone and so tired of fighting a good fight when she wondered if anyone would care if she was gone.

The track marks on her arms hurt less than the thought that she was replaceable.

Penelope shot to her feet unsteadily, looking at her sad, pathetic self in the mirror. She had once been beautiful, vibrant – she had mattered. But now? Who cared?

The mirror mocked her and she screamed – a low keening wail that grew in intensity as she pounded on the glass with her fists. She ignored the pain and the fear and everything but the release of the poison inside her. Her well of despair was overflowing everywhere and she couldn't stop it. The mirror cracked and splintered around her clenched hand, but she didn't stop – until she was pulled away from the shattered glass.

Blood dripped down her arms, splattering bright redness on the white tiles. Christina stared at her in horror, a hand over her lips to hold in whatever might have been said. Penelope struggled against her captor, sobbing miserably. "Let go of me!" she choked.

"No," Derek said firmly. "No, Penelope."

She fought him, remembering as much of her FBI training as she could, but he was just that much stronger. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked as Reid and Emily ran into the room, followed by Wanda and Sam. "Get out – all of you, get out! You don't care – you can't wait for me to die –"

"Stop it," Christina begged. "Mama – "

Derek squeezed her harder around the middle until she went limp. "Penelope, take a deep breath, baby," he whispered. "Please – it's going to be okay, I promise…"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Nothing about me is all right – and where have you been? What do you care? You have your free room now, so forget me. Pretend that you will care when I'm gone, okay? Because I know –"

He turned her around in his arms, holding her wrists, ignoring the blood. "Penelope, where is this coming from?" Derek asked, the hurt on his face echoing the pain in her heart. "Baby Girl, talk to me – please…"

"I'm done talking!" Penelope cried, trying again futilely to escape his grasp. "I'm done with everything – all of it – I just want to die in peace! I'm not going to get better, Derek, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can go home."

"I'm not going anywhere," he argued stubbornly, dodging one of her kicks. "Penelope, ENOUGH," he finally said, his voice rising to a roar. "You've hurt yourself –"

"I don't care," she hissed. "Let me go."

Wanda took a step forward and said, "You need to go to the hospital. You might have broken something –"

"Derek, let her go so I can look at her," Emily ordered. "PG –"

"Stop fussing over me," Penelope pleaded, her voice cracking. "Nothing's broken, I'm just bleeding. Go back to bed."

"Mama, please," Christina whispered, "why are you –"

"It was a mistake," Penelope said, finally wresting her hands from Derek's grasp. "All of this was a mistake – fighting the cancer, going to the doctor in the first place, fighting with Dave… You coming here," she whispered, looking at Derek with hard, hot tears in her eyes. "All of it. I should be dead now. Everything would be better if I was."

"That isn't true and you know it!" Christina yelped.

"Then where's your brother?" Penelope challenged. "Where is my son?"

"Mama," Christina began to argue, but then stopped. "You shouldn't base anything on Luca – he's in a rough place, too, right now, okay? You have to do what's right for you, and he has to do his own thing. And right now, you're bleeding all over the carpet and you're going to bitch about the cleaning bill and just order new carpet in a couple of days."

Penelope rounded on Derek and smacked him hard. "And you – you – how could you?" she whispered, feeling a sudden pang of dismay at the bloody print on his chest. "How could you just… move in and not even – If you loved me even a little bit, why would you leave me alone?"

"Oh, I think it's time for us to leave now," Reid commented with a little cough.

"No, stay," Derek ordered.

"You guys having relationship issues is not my idea of a good family fun time," Reid said firmly.

"You told her you love her?" Wanda asked in disgust. "What about Mom?" Sam clearly agreed with Reid and they left in a hurry.

"Your mother is dead, Wanda," Derek said, his voice low and ragged. "I can't have her back anymore than Penelope can have Dave back, okay? And I love Penelope – I never stopped loving Penelope. And even if she dies before me, I won't stop loving her –"

She hit him again, this time with the waning force of a dying storm. "Don't lie to me anymore, you bastard – don't you dare – don't –" The words became a twisted, choking sob.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Baby, I'm not lying to you – do you really think I'd lie to you and ask you to marry me every day?" he whispered. "God, Penelope, I don't want you to die and I don't want you to give up – you hear me?"

"Why weren't you here?" she sobbed, pushing him with her bloody fist. "Why weren't you here when I needed you?"

"Because that's your room," he whispered. "I didn't think you wanted me in there."

"I hate you," she whispered. "I hate you because I've been alone and you promised –"

"I know," he breathed. "I know, Baby Girl… I know."

"No, you don't – you don't –"

"I do," he murmured. "Come on, put some shoes on and we'll go to the ER and get you looked at –"

"Stop treating me like I can't take care of myself!" she ordered, pulling away from him, then realizing the irony of the words that had left her mouth. "Fuck – Derek, fuck you. Just – go to hell. Go away. Go to the dogs, go to the toilet – just leave me…" Her shoulders drooped as the fight left her completely. "Don't leave me," Penelope begged, the words barely audible.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pulling her back into his arms and holding her gently. "I'm going to be right here, sweetheart – it's okay. It's okay, I promise. Christina, can you get your mom's jacket and shoes? And maybe drive to the hospital?"

"I'm coming, too," Wanda insisted.

"No," Derek said firmly, "you're going back to bed. You've already done enough damage the last few days, young lady."

"But –"

"Just go back to bed," Christina said. "Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow. Mama's bleeding a lot and she's probably got glass in the cuts, so it's going to be a while."

Penelope sighed and slumped against Derek, so tired from her emotional flailing that she couldn't begin to focus again. "I thought – I thought you didn't love me anymore," she whispered.

"Lies," Derek said firmly. "No more lies, Baby Girl. I love the hell out of you and I was trying to spare you my tossing and turning and not sleeping."

She sagged against him, boneless, her despair overcoming her again, the tears starting anew. Christina brought a jacket and shoes and Derek helped her into them, then scooped Penelope into his arms. She felt so ashamed of the ideas that had been tumbling through her mind, each worse than the last, culminating in preferring death to the hell she thought she was living.

The nurse in the ER picked the slivers of glass out of her hands and stitched her up, and Derek was there with her the whole time, explaining her medical history and making sure that she was taken care of. When it was all over, Christina drove them home. Derek carried her up the stairs and their daughter walked closely behind them. Penelope was half-awake, half-asleep, but she heard her daughter's voice loud and clear like a knife through fog. "Derek, if you hurt her one more time, I will end you," Christina threatened softly. "But she needs you – more than she will ever admit. Don't hurt her and don't leave her."

"Does this mean I have your blessing?" Derek asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

"No," Christina said, "but I'm not important, am I? Mama loves you. That's all that matters."

"That isn't all that matters," Derek said.

"Don't try to push your luck, Mr. Morgan," Christina said. "I don't need a dad. I already had one and he was the best dad I could have had, okay? You take care of my mother and your kids and leave me out of it."

"You won't even give me a chance to –"

"I said that I'm not important," Christina said. "Just take care of her."

She felt him shift, then he nodded. "Always," he said firmly. "I wouldn't like you to crush me like a bug."

"Mmm…" Penelope moaned, starting to shift more toward wakefulness.

"I better put her back to bed," Derek said softly. "You should go rest, too –"

She heard the door close behind them, then felt the bed rise to meet her. She groaned and reached for him, but the open air met her. "Derek –"

"Shh, just a minute," he said. The bed dipped and she settled back into his arms, holding him as tightly as she could. "How could you even think for a moment that I didn't love you, Baby?"

"I was stupid," she breathed, listening to the sound of his beating heart as she was lulled into sleep. This time, her dreams weren't fucked up and hurtful. They were softer, gentler, so much better.

And when she woke up in the morning, all of the hateful poison had deserted her – but save the grief for losing Dave… and Luca. She bent over Derek, who was still sleeping, and whispered, "I love you." And for the first time, she knew she meant the words – they were not just empty words leaving her lips.


	22. Chapter 22

Part twenty-two:

When she went downstairs to get some juice to take her pills with, she found the table full of life – Reid and Emily had made breakfast and the kids were having a lively discussion about plans for the holidays in the fall and winter. Christina was telling Derek's kids about the fun everyone always had when they would get up on the ladders to put up the Christmas lights on Thanksgiving night. She was animated and full of smiles, talking about the last time Dave had done it before passing the torch down to them – he had fallen off the roof and landed in Penelope's rose bushes. Needless to say, that had been a hysterical trip to the hospital to pick thorns out of his ass.

It took a moment to realize that there were too many people around the table – and that it was lunchtime, not breakfast. Luca glanced up from his plate and watched her cross the kitchen, and her heart clenched. Had they called him after her breakdown? God, how could she begin to face anyone –

"You hungry?" JJ asked, leaving the table and hovering protectively.

Penelope shook her head. "I'm going to take my meds and go back to bed," she said tiredly. "I don't feel very well."

"Is Derek up yet?" JJ asked.

Penelope shook her head. "He's worn out and it's my fau-"

"Oh, stop it," JJ said firmly. "They told me what happened last night and someone needs to shake you. Shit happens, Penelope. He's tired because he's not a kid anymore and he just moved house in the middle of trying to take care of you. It's not your fault. So stop it. And Luca is here. Don't waste that by going back to bed and avoiding everything, okay? This is your life – and you still have to live it till it's all gone. Right? You've got Derek back, you've got your family here – don't go hiding under a rock again."

Luca spoke up over Christina. "And Mom always goes crazy with the cookies and the candies – and pies. I'm going to miss Mom's peach pie the most."

Penelope looked over at him with tears in her eyes. "There's always FedEx," she said softly. "One of these days, you're going to come back from class and there's going to be a box on your doorstep full of pie and cookies," she promised. "And you're always welcome to come home for the holidays and –"

Luca held up his hand. "You'll have your hands full, Mom," he said firmly. "I can manage on my own, or go to Chicago with Chrissy."

"Who says you're welcome?" Christina ribbed, elbowing him in the ribs. "Or that we'll be there? Sam has family, too, dipshit."

Sam laughed and kissed her cheek. "If it comes down to picking families for the holidays, I prefer yours," he commented. "Especially if someone else is cooking."

"So it's settled, then," Reid spoke up. "It's holidays at the Rossi's again – like it used to be."

Penelope lost her grip on her glass and was out of the room before she heard the juice splashing and the glass shattering on the floor. It wouldn't be like it used to be – that ship had sailed and was never coming back. Hotch and Jack, Dave and the kids – the dynamics were different and god knew she might not even be here long enough to…

She stopped at the foot of the stairs, trapped between the inevitable and everything she had ever wanted, rooted in place, not sure which to reach for. She couldn't keep running. But she couldn't just let it come rushing at her –

"Mom?"

Luca's arms came around her and he pulled her down till she was sitting on the steps with him. They'd had their best, most honest, conversations on these stairs over the years – from the time she'd had to explain to him that borrowing something from his sister without asking was stealing, to the time that he'd had his first birth control scare and he was terrified of becoming a teenaged father.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he said very quietly, resting his head on her shoulder, like he had since he was little. Christina was a daddy's girl – but Luca was softer, more soulfully compassionate like his mother. He was far more fragile than his football scholarship would have anyone believe.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, resting her head against his. "No, Luca, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've really fucked up –"

"We've both screwed up lately," Luca sighed. "I should've called Chrissy when you were sick. I should've done a lot of things, but I didn't – and you were right to take away my responsibility for your health decisions. I just didn't want to see it. And I resented the hell out of you just giving it to that guy –"

"Derek isn't just 'that guy'," Penelope sighed. "He's your sister's father."

Luca stiffened a little, the confirmation stinging more than he was willing to let on. "I know. Chrissy and I have talked about this stuff." His voice was hollow and a little hurt. "But he really does have your best interests at heart and he's going to help take care of you while I'm gone, right? He's not just going to play nice for the family and then hurt you?"

Penelope sighed. "We've hurt each other enough for one lifetime," she whispered.

"So he's not in it for the money?" Luca asked.

She shook her head. "It's not about money," she exhaled.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you and Christina are the only ones besides Hotch and myself that have access to the accounts," Penelope said firmly. "Hotch is taking care of the normal bills and I'm handling the day to day expenses in cash. Even if I accepted Derek's proposal and we were to get married, I would still hold the purse strings."

"What about his kids?" Luca asked. "He's not working now, so –"

"I'm handling things," Penelope said. "Like I said – Hotch and I have it covered and if anything pops up, you and Christina will have to okay any special withdrawls."

Luca sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt because some ass from your past decided to take you on a ride, Mom –"

"Little man," she murmured, their private little endearment, "he already took me on a ride once."

"Right, which is why –"

"Which is why you don't trust me now," Derek said from behind them on the stairs. "Can't say I blame you, Luca. It makes me wonder how your mother is so forgiving –"

"Because she's a good person," Luca said.

Penelope held her son tighter and whispered, "I will never forget your father. And my years with him were the happiest of my life. He's the reason you're here, my little man, and I've treated you badly –"

"Mom," Luca sighed, hugging her back, "you shouldn't be so good to me –"

"We all make mistakes," she murmured. "All of us. It's how we recover from them that makes us who we are." She released him and grabbed the banister, struggling to regain her footing. Derek and Luca reached to aid her at the same time, and the younger man ceded his right to his elder with a wary eye. Penelope leaned against Derek for a moment, then said, "Ask me again."

Derek sighed and shook his head. "Silly girl," he scolded gently, "we've got to get you dressed so we can get you to the clinic for your appointment –"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "No, you're right," she agreed.

"Can I take her?" Luca asked. "I've got to pack my stuff later anyway –"

Derek paused for a moment, staring at him. "Are you sure you want to –"

"It's just a scan," Penelope said firmly. "You don't have to go caveman," she said, giving him a soft kiss. "Don't you need to take Sam and Chrissy to the airport anyway?"

He sighed and released her. "If that's what you want –"

"If you'd have asked me again," she murmured as she took a step away from him, "I would have said yes. But now you have to live with no a while longer."

Luca bit back a smirk and said, "You're in the dog house, man."

Derek shook his head and smiled. "Nah," he said. "Not today."

* * *

She had lied to Derek – it wasn't just a scan. They had pumped another round of radiation into her and she had collapsed almost immediately after the drugs had hit her system. She was physically wrecked and, god, she was glad that Luca had been there to see the struggle that Derek was having to witness every day.

The scan had been almost clear – her remaining tumors had either shrunk to minimal size or disappeared completely. But a last round over three days would take care of the stragglers – if she could manage to live through the treatment.

They admitted her to the hospital that afternoon, to keep an eye on everything.

Luca sat with her through all of it, till Derek flew through the door and cupped her face anxiously in his hands and kissed her like his life depended on it. "Baby Girl," he whispered, "why didn't you –"

"Ask me," she breathed against his lips.

Luca watched them from the doorway, seeing finally the bond that they shared, the walk through the darkness that they had endured.

"Penelope, will you marry me?" Derek asked, his voice cracking with desperation and an unspoken terror that she couldn't assuage. "Don't – you don't have to answer –"

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Yes," was the one word that escaped her lips like a peal from a bell.

Derek's shoulders were shaking as the tears, all of the worry, all of the pain that he'd been carrying for so long, began to fall. "Baby, I –"

"I'm okay, stupid," she said fondly. "Stop crying."

"She really is," Luca spoke up. "Her scan was almost clear."

Derek stared at her in wonder. "Really?" he asked, eyes shining with tears.

She nodded. "Just another round and I should be clean," she promised. "But I had a reaction to the drugs and –"

"She collapsed when she tried to get up," Luca said.

"Yeah, there was that," Penelope admitted. "And my kidneys are kicking back already this time. So I'm stuck here till the drugs are done and my kidney function comes back to normal."

He kissed her soundly and pressed his forehead against hers. "That is – last night, you were convinced you were going to die –"

"I wanted to," she breathed. "But not today – not today."

He kissed her forehead, then got up and crossed the room to put his hands on Luca's shoulders. "Thank you," Derek said, his voice low and hoarse with emotion.

"She's my mom," Luca said, as if that explained everything. "Treat her right or I'll –"

"I will," Derek promised. "I will."

* * *

There was a moment of disbelief when Derek finally gave her a ring – his eyes were alight with mischief and delight when he saw her flummoxed. "The kids helped me pick it out," he said softly. "All of them."

It was a white gold ring with a large center sapphire. On the left were three small stones that represented Dave's and her children's birth stones, and on the right, three small stones that represented Derek and his kids. Two families with her as the center.

"Oh, Derek –"

"Does it fit?" he asked worriedly. "Baby –"

She didn't even take the ring out of the box. She closed it and kissed him with all of the might inside her. "You silly, sweet man," Penelope exhaled against his lips. "I can't even – I can't thank you –"

"You already have," he breathed, kissing her back. "You've forgiven me. You've given me another chance. You said yes, Baby Girl – that's thanks enough."

She leaned against him and closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but a hospital bed. But they were closer to believing that she'd kicked the cancer to the curb than even just a few days ago…

And she was keen to move on.

He took the box and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Perfect," he whispered. "Like it was always supposed to be."

"Nothing is perfect," she murmured. "Not even us."

JJ cleared her throat from the doorway. "Anyone up for visitors?" she asked cheerfully.

Mick burst into the room without waiting for an answer, signing up a storm to his father. "Whoa, buddy, calm down," Derek said with a small smile. "I can barely keep up."

"He had his appointment today," Wanda said.

Penelope straightened up. "What appointment?" she asked.

"Lie down," Derek said firmly, pushing her back onto the bed.

Wanda bit her lip, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Mick looked over at Penelope and smiled, then said, "I'm going to hear again!"

Penelope cocked her head and looked at Derek. "He's going to have the surgery?" she asked.

Derek nodded and said, "I talked to my in-laws and we've worked some things out and –"

"Derek, I would've written a check and –"

"He's my son," Derek said firmly, "and I should've done this a long time ago, Penelope."

Wanda was smiling and had her arm around her brother's shoulders. "We're going to have a party when he comes home from the hospital," she said. "And – and we want you to come, Mrs. Rossi."

Mick grinned over at Penelope. "Mom," he said, correcting his sister. "I want you to come – Mom."

JJ smirked from the doorway and Derek looked like he could have been knocked over by a feather. "I'll do my best," Penelope said softly. Her few days in the hospital had already stretched into two weeks. She wasn't recovering like she should be. But she was determined now – she was going to get out for Mick's party if it was the last thing she did.

Mick nodded and shrugged Wanda off. He came over and gave Penelope a huge hug. "Thank you for talking to him, Mom," he said very quietly.

"I didn't," Penelope whispered.

Mick looked at her curiously. "What?"

"I didn't talk to your dad."

Derek cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. "Luca did," he admitted. "And Christina. And – everyone else."

Penelope ruffled Mick's hair and smiled. "You, kiddo, have a lot of good people on your side," she murmured. "Now, you go get your ear done and I'll be at your party. And then I'm going to marry your father and start planning Thanksgiving."

"Oooh," Mick said, his eyes sparkling. "Dad, can we fry a turkey like we did that one time and –"

"I set the garage on fire," Derek said. "That would be a no."

Penelope giggled. "You set the garage on fire?"

"Dude, it was scary – but cool," Wanda said. "I have video – it's on YouTube."

"I thought you took that down," Derek said, eyes wide with panic.

JJ was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. "Oh. My. God –"

Penelope toyed with her ring and smiled, thinking about all of the traditions they were going to have to mash together to become one big family… And she caught Derek's eye and he smiled back.


	23. Chapter 23

Part twenty-three:

Penelope didn't make it home from the hospital before Mick's big party, so they'd brought the party to her. But the moment her kidneys began to function properly again, she busted out of the little white room so fast that her doctors called it a miracle.

She called it getting better.

Derek took her home on the morning of the first hard frost – so the air was still chilly when he helped her into a warm jacket and a clean hat. They drove in companionable silence, till she said, "I want to stop at the cemetery."

"Isn't that a little morbid?" Derek asked.

Penelope shook her head and sighed. "I need to talk to Dave," she said very quietly. "I need to apologize."

"Penelope, there's nothing to apologize for – and he's probably saying the same thing and shaking his head at you right now," he said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "He's always watching over you, Baby Girl."

"Yes, I know that," Penelope whispered. "Believe me, I know."

"Pen –"

"I've seen him a few times," she said quietly. "And he's always begging me to come with him, Derek." She looked out the window, too afraid to face him. "I almost did; that day when I told you all to stay away from the hospital. I saw him in my room and I almost – I almost gave up."

"But you didn't," Derek said firmly. "And you have nothing to apologize for. You are getting better: that isn't a crime, Penelope."

She sighed and whispered, "No, but I owe him an explanation."

Derek didn't say anything else, just altered their course. It wasn't long before they were as close to Rossi's grave as the road would allow. Penelope got out of the car and walked slowly over the hills to her husband's grave. She sat down right by the headstone, sprucing up the fake flowers that the kids had laid there a few months before.

"Hey," she whispered.

She sat there, not saying much else because she couldn't make the words form. Eventually, she leaned against the cold granite of the headstone, closing her eyes. She felt Derek's warmth before she heard him – he was warm in this cold, cold place. She looked up at him and smiled sadly.

Derek knelt beside her and put his hand flat on the headstone. "Dave," he said quietly, "I'm going to do my best to take care of her. For the rest of our lives. But when the time comes, really comes, you can have Penelope back. Okay? But not till then."

She sighed softly and whispered, "I'm sorry, Dave, but I'm… I'm not ready to go." She looked over at Derek and smiled a little before she offered him her hand. He helped her to her feet and pulled her into his arms for a warm embrace. "It's cold, Derek," she complained. "Let's go home, okay?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. "The kids are at school, so we can have a nice quiet day till they get home –"

She smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "I'd like that," she murmured.

* * *

The house seemed full of life when they arrived back. Munchkin came out of hiding and immediately took up a protective spot on the couch with Penelope while Derek puttered around, putting together a light breakfast. The kids had left little nick-knacks and little personal touches around the living room, from Mick's hand-held games to Wanda's sketch pads filled with drawings and fabric notes. And Derek's old leather jacket was draped over the back of one of the recliners which he'd evidently claimed as his. Not that she was complaining.

Derek brought her a tray with fruit and whole wheat toast on it – and a cup of hot tea with lemon and honey. He gave her a gentle, sweet kiss before he went back into the kitchen, letting her eat quietly. "I thought we could have sandwiches for lunch," he called, "unless you want something else – I can order in or go out and get something…"

"Sandwiches are fine," Penelope said with a small smile as she ate her food.

When he came back out of the kitchen, he found Munchkin's head on Penelope's lap and the empty tray abandoned off on the end table. Penelope was idly stroking the puppy's head and smiling. "She missed you," Derek said, sitting down next to them on the couch. "She's glad her momma's home."

Penelope chuckled and said, "I'm not her momma, Hot Stuff. I'm just her friend."

"You try telling that to mopey face over there," Derek teased.

She smiled and murmured, "Did you miss me?"

"How could I?" he replied. "I was with you every day –"

"But the nights were cold and alone," she whispered.

"Baby Girl," he murmured, "you stop right there. Because you're home and I moved into your room last night and –"

"You moved into my room?" she asked, looking over at him with eyes full of tears.

"Yeah," he said simply. "You won't be alone anymore."

She leaned against him and smiled. "I love you," she whispered.

"You're not going to love picking up my old dirty drawers," he teased.

"Mmm, no, but that's because I'm going to re-train you to put your boxers in the hamper," she replied. "You need to be housebroken again. You've been on your own too long, old man."

"Does this housebreaking come with positive rewards for picking up after myself?" he teased.

She smirked. "That can be arranged, Mr. Morgan."

"Would you like to adjourn to our bedroom and give me some positive reinforcement for the new setup?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking back. "And let me know if you like the new bedding JJ went out and picked up?"

Penelope chuckled. "You're about as subtle as a hammer to the skull," she said with a chuckle.

"Mrs. Rossi, I don't know what you mean," he replied with a grin on his lips. "I was just suggesting that you might like a nap."

"Because I haven't been doing anything for weeks?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Why do you make everything so difficult?" he asked, getting up and stretching. She cringed when she heard his back pop, but he didn't even flinch. He smiled down at her and offered her his hand. "Coming with me?"

"No nap," she said warningly.

"No nap," he agreed, winking.

She took his hand and they walked upstairs. She took in her bedroom, transformed. Several boxes sat in the corner, and Derek said, "I wasn't sure what you wanted me to do with Dave's things."

"Boxes are okay," she murmured. "And I love the bedding. JJ has good taste. Is she still here or –"

"No, she bought it on the net and had it delivered," Derek said. "She's back south but if we need her, we're supposed to call her immediately."

Penelope nodded. "I can deal with that," she said softly. "And you left your socks on the floor."

He chuckled. "I should've just shoved them under the bed –"

She pointed to the far corner. "Hamper's right there, buddy," she said pointedly. "Dirty clothes go in there so I can sort them and wash them. Don't make me put them in there or you will get smashed like a bug."

He immediately came around the bed to grab his dirty socks. "Yes, ma'am," he teased, lobbing them into the hamper from where he was standing. "Any other fundamental rules I need to know?" he inquired, grinning.

"Never push the bed all the way to the wall – the headboard is old and it has a bad tendency to slam against the wall if it's too close and you're… a restless sleeper," she said, trying to look innocent.

"You mean if you're vigorously making love," he corrected.

"Either or," she replied.

"That's a theory I'd like to test," he replied all too cheerfully.

Penelope felt a sudden flash of emotion that she tried like hell to hide. They hadn't made love since she'd started treatment. Yes, she knew on some level that he knew she wasn't the same physically as then – he'd helped change her bandages and clothes often enough – but she suddenly felt terrified that he might just reject her based on the change. That he'd decide that she was lacking and just up and walk away. That was the whole reason she'd had implants done after her second round of treatments – because she'd feared losing Dave to someone who was whole.

He noticed her hesitation and said, "Penelope, what's wrong – talk to me, Baby Girl…"

She closed her eyes and spoke the words before she could stop them, hide them, be ashamed of them. "I love you – and I want you – but I don't want you to see me like this," she whispered. "You won't like it – you won't love it. I'm not… I don't…"

"Penelope," he said softly, wrapping her up in his embrace, "I don't love your breasts: I love you, silly girl. I don't care if you have them or not – though they were fun while they were here – because I still have you. And don't you dare think I'm going to run away because you don't have them. Okay? I love you. And I want you to be happy."

She sighed and whispered, "I can't turn off the little voice in my head that thinks you're just going to get pissed and leave me here alone and –"

"Don't turn it off," he murmured, "but don't believe that voice. Because it lies to you."

She opened her eyes and saw the sincerity, the love and desire upon his face, and surrendered to the overwhelming urge to just kiss him. It was a slow, soft, sweet kiss, but so full of everything she felt at that moment – worry, anxiety, need, love, hope…

"Let me show you how much I love you," he whispered. "Okay?"

"Okay," she breathed, nodding just a little, the motion almost imperceptible. She was going to put her heart, and her happiness, in his hands – and if he broke her, then what? But if she didn't, how could she live with herself or him? Wasn't this what she wanted?

She had the urge to back away from the intensity in his gaze, but didn't. Instead, she dove right in – and held her breath as she kissed him like her life depended on it. And in a way, it did.

"Hey now," he whispered between kisses, "we've got our entire lives to –"

"I don't want to wait anymore for anything," Penelope insisted softly. "I've beaten cancer three times – well, two and probably three. There's no guarantee…"

He growled low in the back of his throat. "I wasn't saying wait," he said firmly, "just slow down a little. You've only just gotten out of the hospital. We can take our time, Baby Girl. You're home now."

She paused, cocking her head and looking at him. "So you're saying you don't want to have sex?"

"No, I'm saying – well, hell," he sighed. "I'm saying that we don't have to rush things just because you're home. I want to make love to you – believe me, gorgeous, it's been on my mind for months. Having you home and ready to have some fun… But you're just out of the hospital and still not 100%."

"Excuses," she said stubbornly. "You just don't want to see me naked."

"No," he said firmly, pulling her close again. "Because if it makes you feel better, we can take all our clothes off and take a nap like that. I don't want to push you past your boundaries right now."

She scowled at him. "I'm not a porcelain doll, Derek Morgan."

He gently propelled them toward the bed. She fell back when her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he stepped back, taking off his shirt and jeans. "You, Penelope, need to chill out a little," he said, kneeling at her feet and taking her shoes off one at a time. "We don't have to rush into the fucking," Derek commented dryly. "I want to know that you're up to it before we get into that."

"You said you were going to show me how much you love me," she complained as he worked her yoga pants down her legs.

His head popped up over the edge of the bed and he glared at her. "Love doesn't automatically equal sex," he said warningly. "Remember?"

The ten years they'd been friends before they'd taken that leap into the more complicated – oh, who was she kidding? They'd been complicated friends before they'd been complicated lovers. But those ten years, she'd been loved – really loved – and they'd never even kissed.

It was the simple gestures, like what he was doing now. He was undressing her with tender care, wanting her to see that it didn't matter what she looked like – he loved her no matter what. Silent, stunned tears began to roll down her cheeks, and he brushed them away before he pulled back the blankets. He guided her beneath the covers, only in her panties and his boxers, and held her so closely that she could feel his heart beating in time with her own.

Resting her head against his chest, she relaxed into sleep.

* * *

"Your curfew is midnight," Derek reminded Wanda as Penelope came into the kitchen. "If your movie is going to run later than that, you call me first." He held out a fifty dollar bill and frowned at his daughter.

"Yes, Dad," Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes.

"And your homework has to be done tomorrow," he said firmly. "Completely finished. Or we won't move your sewing things into my room on Sunday."

Wanda's eye rolling was gone in a flash. "What? You mean it? I'm going to get my own sewing room again?" she asked excitedly. "But where are you going to sleep?"

Penelope spoke up. "With me," she said simply.

Mick looked up from his homework on the kitchen table and made a face. "Ugh," he muttered. "Please don't talk about sex. After hearing about Wanda's new boyfriend, I think I might barf."

Derek scowled at Wanda and withheld the money. "What new boyfriend?"

Wanda sighed and said, "He's not coming to the movies, Dad…"

"Do I need to swing by his house and put the fear of god into him?" Derek rumbled.

"No," Wanda said. "He's just a stupid boy in my biology lab – "

Penelope smirked. "Science geeks are freaks in bed," she teased.

Wanda's eyes went wide and she spluttered. "But – but – no, we're just friends, we're not going out or anything –"

Derek glared at Penelope. "Do not encourage her," he growled.

Penelope chuckled. "What are you going to go see?" she asked, wandering over to the fridge.

"The Planet of the Apes –"

Penelope groaned. "That's been remade like thirty times," she sighed. "And it never gets any better."

"Well, I haven't seen it," Wanda said, pouting. "And it's just me and some of the girls from school – no boys, daddy."

"Are you getting dinner while you're out?" Derek asked.

"What's with the third degree?" Wanda whined. "Can't I just go out on Friday night and –"

He sighed and said, "Fine – don't wreck the car. And bring back my change."

Wanda smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy –"

"And if I find out that you've been drinking or doing anything like that, I won't bail you out of jail," he warned.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Daddy."

Once she was gone, Mick rolled his eyes. "I thought she'd never leave – I didn't realize till I could hear her better how annoying she sounds," he commented wryly. "What's for supper?"

"Um," Derek said, looking at Penelope. "What do you want? I can go pick up whatever –"

"We've got eggs and bread," Penelope said. "How about fried eggs and toast?"

Mick sighed. "That's about all Wanda can cook," he complained. "I'm tired of eggs."

Penelope smiled. "Then let me get dressed and we'll go out," she said.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Are you up to –"

"Absolutely!" she exclaimed. "Besides, we should do things like a family, shouldn't we?" She came over and ruffled Mick's hair, smiling as she leaned over his shoulder to look at his homework. "What do you want, kiddo?" she asked.

Mick looked up at her, brow furrowed. "You want me to choose?" he asked.

"Hey, I've been on hospital food for a couple months," she reminded him. "I don't know what real food tastes like anymore."

"Mexican," Mick said firmly.

"Then I'm going to go get changed and we'll go grab dinner," Penelope promised. "Derek, will you call Miguel's and have them hold us a table? The number is on the fridge."

Derek nodded, hesitating to interrupt her little bonding moment with his son. "Okay," he said. "Do you need any help –"

"You've helped enough, Hot Stuff," she said with a tiny smile, heading out of the room.

A few minutes later, she came back down the stairs in comfortable yoga pants and a loose sweater – and her beat up old ugly boots – feeling much more suited to go out than she had in her nightgown and robe. She'd even changed her hat and smiled to see the very beginnings of peach fuzz on her head.

Mick was already in his coat and Derek was in his leather jacket, and stood there, holding her wool peacoat in hand with a smile. She walked right up to him and gave him a quick, tender kiss and moved to take it from him. He had other ideas, however, and held it up for her to slip into.

"You two are kind of gross," Mick commented.

Penelope smiled over at him. "We used to be much, much worse," she said cheerfully. "Be glad we're not making out at the restaurant."

Mick scowled. "No," he said in a clipped tone.

Derek chuckled and said, "Just for that… we might just have to."

Mick looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. "Please don't," he pleaded.

Penelope grinned at him. "Kiddo, just wait till you fall in love," she said softly. "You'll understand then."

"No way, man," Mick said. "It's bad enough getting a stiffy in class – kissing people in public is not going to happen."

Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That's not something you're supposed to talk about in public," he reminded his son.

"It's just you and Mom," Mick countered. "Besides, you get one whenever you're around her more than a couple minutes, so what's the big deal?"

Penelope blushed and said, "Oh dear."

Derek sighed again. "Okay, dinner," he finally said. "Let's go – and no more sex talk from either of you tonight. Let's talk about Thanksgiving or something. That's only a couple of weeks away."

"Good idea," Penelope agreed, taking Derek's arm. "Maybe we should do something special?"

"As long as it doesn't involve awkward sex conversations," he stipulated.

"When did you get to be a prude?" she teased.

When she slapped him on the ass, she giggled at the look of horror on Mick's face – and laughed even harder when she saw the look on Derek's face. He looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. What made her feel slightly perverse was the sudden want to do it again… but that could wait till they were safely in bed for the night.

She wasn't going to take no for an answer this time.


End file.
